free-fall speed fails to capture
conscious creation as a universal tool
neon tracers flash into oblivion
time archetype shifting as humanity’s truth
blurs lines of reason
and Neil Donald sits idle –

Go-re-ra grows in poison oceans  
and constitutional rights are being applied to sheep
in suits
rooted fruitcakes
stuck in last year’s Autumn ascot
and a 1927 spending frenzy –

three times before we killed 30,000 brown people
and for what
glory of a flag
misinterpretation of destiny
and god on the side of white industrialists –

sun wrinkles start to distinguish my eyes
from youthful indifference
to a Clint Eastwood style stare
looking for the one that needs killin’
in order to save this here town –

no entity exists as I read the pages of corporate personhood law
erosion trails cut deep into my cheeks
a landscape destroyed by reality and acceptance
there is still time to buy a small piece of land
and do my Tim Leary impression –