Jungle

I can’t get the thought of a jungle out
of my impertinent mind, and it does make
me canvas a certain two over their vert and then
their wild, and also how noble a jungle must
be, with all of its secrets hidden imperceptibly;
and I also have given quite a lot of thought to
the flowers which protrude almost randomly
and profusely in all the corners, and grow with the
contemplation of my thoughts; and maybe they
aren’t even haphazardly alive, they might just
be waiting for them to realise they were needed
when the bird fell through and dropped a seed;
and the wilderness with all its trees and all its
bedlam of emotions which capriciously appear
when they’re unexpected, along with the birds
and animals and their eggs and haunting hunting
eyes and perspicacity, makes me see how much
of a pandemonium it would be to get lost in it,
(a jungle by all means, is not advisable for stay),
and it would take drugs and a bucket of maps
and compasses, which would keep changing
what you see to know there is no escape once
you’re inside it, and their isn’t one after you call
for help, because a jungle is, in its true sense, a
labyrinth; well planned, but eerily disheartening
for only a few can see the lines and pathways
which compile the chaos into beauty.

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14 thoughts on “Jungle

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