The Aphorist

We're all mowing esoteric patterns in the grass
 A fast and fading echo of ancient Nazca man
 Who carved his lines upon the desert floor
 In hopes to catch the eye of some forgotten god
 To delight a passing thunderbird
 Or win patronage of a sky-jaguar knit of stars
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 Shouted slogans of leapers give me megrims
 Why didn't I smash the copier when I was through?
 Self-doubt is a stalking fiend
 Narcissism is a killer
 That and no healthcare
 Dumb aphorist embrace obscurants
 And write in ogham for your final lines
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 There's the failed lawyer haunting teen-punk shows
 He'll explain his top five for '09 and what to eat
 But, if you ever saw his bald-skull head
 You'd be certain he's been dead for weeks
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 And that's the story of the happy thief who provided content
 To that ceaseless chill-out stream
 His body will be found soaked in luminol aftershave
 Room of knives, Lebanon Flying J
 I didn't know him very well
 But I think of him whenever my mind drifts