This too shall pass

what happened of enlightenment
the sage of Copenhagen laments
the last of his blunts put out with distaste
weary, delusional, his light misspent
the best minds of his age rest in pillage

his eyes reaching out
far into the distance
his face flushed, his bust hell bent
the veins on these arms
holding back the unrest

the wind on his face,
the sun on his back
mistrust on his mind
poetry in his words
bebop trap-smack

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s