Shuffles of papers of decks of cards
Rearrange, restage the stars.
“I like stars.” Reception: laughter.
Reaction: befuddling inconsistency.
To like the universal finite, once far,
Once light, that shall and will be free
Is no “cute” remark nor sentiment.
No “adorable” or “innocent” words.
The fire that blazes black element
Becomes, is one, with beat swords.
Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump
The verisimilitude of the heart-drum
Uncontained is free and fire, coal lumps
Black burning and blazing hot numb.
My smile is lighted by thanks of the stars
That regard and react with the no-oxygen.
Vacuumed by white’s polar contractor,
In a field, in a stage of cards and engine,
The fuel is the fire and the flame and the far
As the universe decrees: reshuffle the cards.
The 52 me’s are masks to be “better,”
2 for each alphabetical letter.
The “like” is a simple and profound combo
Of the cards and letters and masks found.
Complexity in the magnanimous of its flow,
For to acknowledge such is to that mine wound
Up insignificance, impotently empathized
By the fire of passion of stars that were.
Stars are circular masses of blazing lights
That beats back black until with night, concurred.
The beat is black and blue bruise
But also red of bloody hearts and fiery stars
And the colors reflect my 52 dues
To the social expects and demands to war
When the wishes of my innocent smiles,
In a suffocating world of wants,
Is to wish upon a star to become worthwhile
Than to be a burned-out star dawn.
Black-hole is my destined end card
But reshuffle, I do, to my like, life, and star.