Poems · poetry

“There Are No Hieroglyphics Here”

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“There Are No Hieroglyphics Here”

There are no hieroglyphics here.

No testament of existing, etched onto crumbling post modern gentrifications.

We fear the demise of life as time swells and ebbs.

Yet we feebly try to claim the Holy Grail, for one more trip around the sun.

A collective delusion begun with good intentions,

Third pages of empty notebooks, give slight rise to ideas, faintest of ideas.

Then, evaporate leaving salty bitterness for weak tongues.

There are no hieroglyphics here.

Nothing to mark our passing,

Nothing, but spent seamen, circling rusty bathroom drains in an inordinate amount of suburban guest bathrooms.

Sneaky grabs at the forbidden fruit, with a slight lull in consciousness.

Big Bang special.

Hiding our sins behind sheet after sheet of floral shower curtains.

Alone, with slapping shower drops,

Crushing tired temples and brow.

Beat, beat, beating on.

Five thousand years from now,

Society will uncover a treasure trove of irrelevant data.

Reams and reams of virtual essences.

Nothing substantial.

No stylus marked tablets, or sky-written contrails.

And, there will be no hieroglyphics there.

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