Midweek Sillysong

Don’t judge a journal by its cover

and a person by their clothes and clogs

there’s land under the deepest water

and a wheel’s not a sum of its cogs

 

gold’s always gold, but as for glitter

it can choose to take a shine, or not

who can say that matte isn’t better

and high polish always hits the spot?

 

the skies might lighten and get darker

the sun and stars in an endless swap

and yet the dark cosmos is greater

though all of them do a sincere job

 

the road decides when to meander

and when to pull up and dust itself off

and run for a bit, brisk and straighter

it’s much more than its starts and stops

 

graphics well drawn, slicker and quicker

than lightning forks, one click and shot

the essence still escapes the picture

the whole cannot be framed and caught

 

the sense gets dimmer, the meanings splinter

and it's all fine, but we are distraught

come split this hair and point the finger

and tell us exactly what is what

 

there’s more to you than being a reader

there’s more to me than someone who plots

lines of daydreams trailed into rivers,

the heartsblood of nights in inked out clots.