MAS Appeal [Happy Rant Day!]
Well, it’s rant day, so I figured I would give you all a rant. Such would seem to be a natural decision; no? My rant is in the form of a poem that I wrote earlier this week titled MAS Appeal. Enjoy
MAS Appeal
So many spines from which to unplug wires. So many batteries to amputate and hearts to reinsert. So many eyes to open. So many dead to awaken. Can it even be done?
She is uncharted territory. Yet the acid rains of popular doctrine have fallen on her, propagating blasphemous poison into her precious soil. She soaks up every bit. Her soil, soft and easily permeated. Her trees’ roots, willing to leave no mineral unsiphoned. Fortunately, it seems that her trees have not had enough exposure to clear weather, hot sun, sky free from the “protection” of thick dark clouds. Their roots have failed to take hold and their branches have failed to grow. This would seem to make light my job of administering the anecdote to lies. The only problem is that I am allergic to rain water. And in her world, it rains all day.
She is an untainted canvas. Burned by the light of those so high above her, darkened a bit, but still quite workable when faced with the brush of a skilled artist. There she stands high on her easel, taunting me, calling. She calls, “Come and make something. Draw something. Something. Anything.” Every aspect of me is dying to acquiesce, but it seems that she only exists to tease. I am to see her only in passing, to admire her simple elegant beauty, the potential she possesses to be a great work, only to return again when I have forgotten my zeal and to have my passions reignited, reawakening dreams which, I fear, will never be realized. For I am allergic to the sun. And there she stands, slowly but surely burning away.