Festoon

Wings of ligaments hooked on
thin philosophy, taught to fly
by professors of the soil;
they will never test out lies
or find new truth from
only digging for oil.

Riding the air like butterflies driven by
the short energy they're loaned,
panic in perfect control.
Shock me up and blow away the key,
my home feels more like
a travel-soul.
I am destined for the end of the line,
we're all going, but I'm riding a
balloon festooned in
ivy and knuckle-bones, from
weathering the rush of written
climbing, no less.
Powered by the sharp poison of
excitement or ambition,
whichever's best.

Student of ladies and gentler
men, their dreams are responsible for
breeding mine.
I am a dirigible, and my
shade so nearly lost as
floating higher is an easier option.

J. 27/03/06

beta; LavenderFox-Daisy

AN: dirigibles; balloons that can be steered. Don't ask me I just liked the word! Having trouble remembering why I chose so many classes...(this was written in English lang&lit, one of my favourite and ironically the only one I have time enough to not concentrate.)