matuli kulton

The journey of Sinbad tooted by one horn.

A journey with no return.

U-turn faced down.

Prevailing winds that lifted sand.

Toxic waste sits at your foods plate.

Meanwhile, you turn on the box looking at a wasp waist.

It was September equinox and some change.

A documentary about warlocks.

Opened eyes like getting a chest punch from Hancock.

Nah that didn’t register a lot but, moreover, it gave insight to determine his or her right to reunite.

In spite the color or mental capacity insight.

At night these thoughts come alive.

Shouts out to pen and paper.

Automatic-drive.

Going miles without contrive.

So much anger built up for the wrong reason.

Getting cold soon like nerves bundled up for this new season.

What used to be signing checks, reflect the signs of treason.

Like a monk or a shaman looking for more reason.

The universe rewards you with peanut butter and strawberry preserves.

Scratching head now, knowing this off top.

Astral projections used to mean a lot.

From using food stamps at corner stores, to dictating this line-of-thought.

Now this won’t mean a lot but, as time goes by, this will be the trending topic.

Followed by a bank shot.

Cue the spot.

Geometric French knot to lure the bait.

B.P.M’s recite the sounds of fate.

Famous last words, as today the mandate of brain has reached a stalemate.

The story of the under grad augmented through writing pad.