Jurriaan Maessen
April 29, 2013

The Last Of Rustling Reeds
Leaves Echoes Drowning On The Streets
A Lesser Breed Runs Forth Unguided
Now Left To Guide Itself

The Scorched Skin Of Dedication
Sprinkles Sparkles’ Residue
The Sight Of This Old Fallen Tree
Silhouettes Our Deepest Enmity

At Every Entrance, Lobby-Door
A Hatted Hound, Engulfed In Smoke
Like Mist Around The Poplar Tree
Sniffs Summer & Conspiracy

Roving Eyes & Toxic Smiles
Pierce Grimly Through The Creaking Gates
Big Jim Meets Their Crippled Stares
With A Stronger Heart Than Theirs

Here Enters Well-Dressed Nothingness
Adjusting Eyes To Darkened Glass
And He, The Sleuth, Quite Unimpressed
Laughs Splendidly At This Robber-Fest

Without A Care For Compromise
Reporting With Grave Sacrifice
Jim’s Seated On His Treasure Chests
Smoking Cigarettes & Rests

Is It Not Death’s Accursed Way
To Steal From Us Our Dearest Gems?
But Sometimes Life Does Make Amends
By Forging Tears And Joining Friends

The Falling Of One Mighty Oak
Uproots Many-An-Unseen Thing
It Shakes The Ground So Violently
That Pens Are Bound To Stir

Though An Empty Suitcase Now Lies
Before The Gates Where Future’s Trials
Are Staged By Unseen Puppeteers
Our Pens Are Called To March With Jim
To Quench Our Stifling Fears

There Sits Jim’s Great Silhouette
Rising On Each Conference
Throwing Shadows On Each Longing Gaze

There Sits Jim’s Great Silhouette
Wiping Droplets From His Face

Jurriaan Maessen’s website is Explosivereports.com.

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