Vortex Poem by aric wilsie

You are in a vortex
White circle
Off green water
Filled with discreat musings
And brass fittings
Seat of the house
Who will bet?
A day's income
That time wasted...
Is time spent wanting
Maybe the troubled mind
Vexed by an airy glyph
Could tell the difference
Anyway...
Perception
Is the subliminal root
Of most problems
To bad that
Every standard set to be
Is interpreted by
Inividual gods
Centering the universe
Of themselves upon...
Discordance
Tommorow will not come
Not yet
This troublesome thought
Holds no value while you
Sleep away images of me
That might never hold true
It could be concieved however...
That the drainage system
This city maintains
Upon budget planned tax dollars
Holds more of humanities
Greatest idealistic endeavors
Than any personolised Jesus
Would care to fathom...