The trope of returning, recurrent speech

zoetropical wheel on life’s beach

is a place I often find myself, a topical island

crusoefied in motifs and stylings

trapped in the tropic of topics

my topics are starting to feel myopic

is it because I’m using one eye to look forward

even if it is the one in the middle of my forehead

can I really say I’m using foresight

when the same ideas are the one’s that are most forthright

vague archaic philosophies

vogue esoteric philanthropy

vogon semantic poetry

going on and on about the eden tree

this snake is wearing old skin

it’s keeping the newer one in

getting stuck on branches

taking in sand

this sea snake

doesn’t belong on land

see snake and eat it

be snake, can’t defeat it

biting my tail

holding on for infinity

never achieving

my want for divinity

the wheel spins

samsara begins

afresh, anew

yet still the same

my poetic muscle

wasted and lame

so the cycle restarts

with little new hope

as I return to this

same old recurrent life trope


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