Sunday, March 09, 2014

Shoe Gazing



Shoe Gaze

My shoes tell me who I am.
All Day I Dream About Self.
Too blue, blaring eyesore.
A too large tongue stuck out.

Tied tightly with a final knot.
Walks over everyone. Stood on. 
Tramples everything. Trampled on.
Treads softly on temporary ground.

The last vestige of the ghost of purpose.
Legs peddling endlessly until almost worn
down to the sole, until only the shoes remain,
like stumps of axed Wonder boom or Cedars of God.

3 comments:

Skyline Spirit said...

pretty nice blog, following :)

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Keen Mustard said...

The more I read this poem the more complex it becomes. I had to Google "Wonder boom" and "Cedars of God". I've most definitely been educated.