The Catalyst
Mal aligned are my bones
like an intrepid explosion of Lava
oozing out of sagely mountains
I blurt out verses of fiery composure
and thus quickly. like a fountain
for lovers and poors; I stay and gather
metal hopes tossed aside in vain,
and my words are recycled but never
I gather a feeling of disdain.
Maybe I do. This is a craft for twisted
losers, lunatics and deranged.
Looking for metaphors in rigid
and leaving obvious estranged.
Mal Aligned are my bones reaching
for metaphors in dryland and plains.
and my words are recycled but never
I gather a feeling of disdain.
Like a memory-less system
I amplify the impulses
and pushed to a threshold
I conjure jittery verses.
I lose I in the moment and
words either attract or repulses
uncaring of past, unwary of future
the inhibitions just avulses.
We will explore the world of signals and systems in series of poems and their applications in real world.
This is my day 14 entry of the 100 days of poetry by @d-pend from SteemitSchool.
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