Son of Ellipsis Part One

Please find below the first part of my latest volume of verse. Please. I beg you. Justify my existence.

Number One

Once there was a frog
On the back of a car
In a language it did not speak
In a context unreasonable
Of fashion unsustainable.
If the frog jumped over that broken wall
It would define the place
In the eyes of the now unignorant.
Juddering through the cosmos
With only one frame of reference
Dreams die under their own steam
Without external influence.

Number Two

Accents coagulate
As environments distract
Commonality expressed through mutual strangeness.
This bit is not what it should be
But comforts the soul.
I am entitled to an opinion
But nothing called an opinion
Is entitled to me
Nor anyone else.
We look back through the years
We cannot see
To two things we can
And the depth of reason bridges no gap
To connect sorrow to delusion.

Number Three

Falling and despising gently
Are two sides of the same coin
In a desert made by no one else
But existent externally nevertheless.
Connections not made
Trouble like unguarded wires
And the kindness preceding the headache it introduced
Shines through its temporary introduction.
The late days
Scurrying back for different varieties of misery
Bask in the seriousness
Descending over the cloud of eternal freedom.
The blind can only lead the blind
If we let them.

Number Four

Prefiled it is a nimbus.
The names half remembered
The architecture unripely altered
The knowledge lost
Through non-engagement
Which was never willingly made.
What was left behind
Remains in its original face
With Dorian Gray
Over the hill
Standing in a brutal injustice.
What we have heard before
We have never heard now.
What once became Hell
Has its own way back
Before we have.

Number Five

Disappearing boys and disappearing cakes
No fun and no purpose
It remains as it was
The ideal of domesticity
Where no one can live anymore.
History gives it added treasure
Personal history
Betrays it.
The pimento
Expressive elsewhere
Only applies depth
When confused with a less tasty alternative
With equally historic name.
That is what it was like in the days before the firemen came
Tajikstan with no i in the middle
Russian Republic not understood.
Butane Propane
And the incomprehensibility of the narrowest stripes
Have a home somewhere
But it is not one anyone
Should ever know.

What does all of this mean? I know. You do not. That is why I wrote it. Are you any different? Convince me.