Wishes
suspended
in a filmy lacquer
like a child's secret utterance
set
in
invisible
liquid-hope
based on nothing at all
are like blemishes in an otherwise perfect diamond
How, in a lugubrious world
hanging
by
a
single
extruded
wire
of
tenuous
mercy
can there be
mines beneath shallow graves
dug by slaves with bloodied fingers
and frightening visions
of those thousand-foot-deep-burial-wells
clawed into the forehead of the world
in fake-searching
of a new
and magic
element
to brag-mix
into toothpaste or a new and improved Brylcreem
(now formulated for your pets and guaranteed to make a difference)
PLEASE NOTE:
A child's wish or question should be disqualified due to the lack
of subtext and connived distortion to pre-fashion the desired answer
or result
(It's hard to trick youth when it is too young)
The space between burial plots
is reserved to bury the mental oozings
of wishers and questioners
and the ceremonies are to be torchlit processions
marching
back
into
rotting
cemeteries
near darkened woods
on the edge of civilizations
where truth sleeps in the above-mentioned shallow graves
and those sneaky spaces
in
between
There are caves and mines below,
you know
encroached and heavily toothed
with stalactites
and stalagmites
of stalac-rights
and stalag-wrongs
of revivalist lies
pouring over stone fangs
chomping down on any remaining truth
amid blackened deceit
fought with limp-wristed efforts
by feigning reason
and pale blue innocence
which always clouds up the lovely prejudice in play
with silly attempts to appear decent
Do wishes petrify
or just hold very still under glass
to not frighten the proctors
or their undeveloped wards
in hoards
on field trips?
The secret to making wishes come true is hidden in the puzzle:
K R O W
R O
UOY
O R
W O R K
#
> unscramble and despair <
The current judges always remain unmoved
unimpressed
uncaring
and refuse to blow out the candles
until the day that someone judges THEM
in all prejudice and bias of the mind
of good and proper scale bearers
and compromised judges
just wishing for dignified approval
What might the answer be
when a foolish soul, surrounded in questions, asks,
"Does anyone have change for a parent?
It seems I only have a single father to my name."
"I have two career choices in the arts, so I can break him."
is the reply
"No,"
answeres the hopeful.
"I need four erroneous opinions to fit into his ear
or the machinery doesn't grind to a complete halt.
Doesn't anyone have the proper change?"
Someone must always sit on the low end
of the teeter-totter of wishes
Won't anyone play with me?
I wish someone would
I need contra-ballast
if only to assuage my conscience
Somebody?
Somebody?
Anybody?
Is no one disappointed in a parent?
Is everyone here made of stone?