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This ragtime band of crusading heroes, called upon to support the crux of contentious plot, designed to be ridiculed, ridiculed to be designed, holding the proportional strength of a thousand independents in their clutches as they march haphazardly onto silver screens, reimagining through a stencil the works of yesteryear, paying homage to homely men long unaccounted for, and damning the spark of imagination held at their conception.
Poetic inferences led the boy to speak in verse
Objectifying his father’s keeper, a light hearted nurse
Forced to pick up the title of the family curse
Bumping down back alley’s, swerving into Pa’s hearse

Responsibility, the weighted chain,
Attached generationally through one’s surname
…………………………………………………………
Red lip
Bled for a tip
$6.00 grip
Retained and placed at the hip

Felt the caustic eye
Depicting a senseless lie
Seemed like a simple guy
Dressed elegant in a suit and tie
……………………………………………………………
Liquidized assets in a fortune 5 hundred
Cauterized wounds for the plundered

Sipping on blueberry wine
Breaking bread, dinning on banned swine
Luxuries overgrow the jewelry box
Scotch overvalued, yet on the rocks

Locked safe, cold-clocked combination
Lost in a dream, trapped enumeration

Unwilling to sip soda as a pauper
Social stigmatisms holding him proper
The man bears arms
Coy as to avoid alarms
…………………………………………………………..
Muzzle lit
Puzzle refit
Hands up, dinners sit
$6.00’s retrieved after the handle hit

Red lips crashes to the floor
The well-earned man heads for the door
Attendants pause, awaiting more
Empty wallets, patrons left poor
…………………………………………………………….
Revelatory refractions held in the disco ball’s reflection, glancing off the wall.
Dim-lit dreams tilt forward, spilt into a paper cup, bounced backward and sprinkled up.

******* synonyms from the cold, dead pages of the riddle’s mask.
Breaching spatial avenues left for those who understood the task.
Taking hits from a dry-lit flask, leaving windows closed to bask

Clapped the snap back bass kit as it turned Wallace snitch.
The Wire drawn and laid on lawns boundless in the ditch.

Deaf to congruencies of affection, brought about by an adolescent *******.

Blind spot in the centre of view. Rhythmic dancing, oblivious to the pew
Unplugged mixing, interlocked twisting
Pulsing in tune with distorted computation
Dehydrated seizures next to the watering station

Molly Mary caught in the flashing lights, blinded by the car’s brights.
A necklace found, nothing else around.
Body grasped for fun, stuffed, mounted, late night pokes meticulously counted.
Side worn glances draw the skin pale. Half dressed inferences hooked on a nail.
Spiteful nostalgia picked from the nose, of Tom Waits while holding a rose.
Serpentary train of thought, inevitably back to the same spot.

Revert to responsibilities of old, and return to reveries told.

Spectrums of light tumble blindly, refracting in through open panes,
     Opaque shadows cast from blind spots left by stains.

Trying to be poetic for poetry’s sake, resolute in resolve, discovered as a fake.
The lexicon’s been tossed aside, for depressive angst most should hide.
Tachyons convolute the art, allowing the removal of heart.

Starry skies stripped of worth, sanitized sacrilege straight from birth.

Tentative steps, pushing the precursor forward as the floe begins to melt,
   Nudge the idol in, and return to shore without talent, but svelte.
Counting hopeless dreams stripped from the sandman’s grasp
Kept waiting, left chaffing  
The restraining corset equipped on daddy’s farm breaks a clasp
Worth stating, more berating

Left in transit as thoughts collide, drifting off on that one once relied
Envision ghosts, stagnant at posts, awaiting the toast, at Greg Giraldo’s roast
A passing cloud, it’s well endowed, the screaming’s loud, daddy’s proud
Broken bones, the girl moans, the old man groans, salacious tones

Nursery bound departure of a beloved mother, swept off by a younger lover
Father time awaits the clock, chairs rock, nurturing his flock, displayed ****
In speechless rage, on a well lit stage, chalked up to age, comes an averted cage
Nothing’s going to change my world. Nothing’s going to change my world.
Bastardized holdings in a new world order
Standardized error retained as a border
Manipulate the idealist into a moral hoarder
Tabulate the results, and encourage disorder
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