welcome to light-city
where a dead-****** is on the back of a golden goose
head thrown back in rigor-mortis, days old
1.
the plaza is on fire
one man walks out his delirium into a derelict-town
with so many glittering-lights on
an unhealthy-sheen to his face.. some melted skin
he seeks the looted-gold the long-plaited one assured was his
he can't hear the dark-whispers right behind him
his shoulder-blade itches with a fury no typical-scratch can relieve
nor can he sense the violent-energy half-crackling in the air
hovering in the wings of that dry-wind.. in sullen hiss-spits
2.
elsewhere, many give thanks on the prairie
where daffodils fly free in love
a motorcade of bikers with a moon's view
bespectacled-waiter can ask for help
one child holds in hand.. so many open-answers that adults just fail to see
and dreamers dream *the same dream
in a broken, incredulous world
(you can't hide away in your dreams
they over-foam your running-legs)
yes.. scamper..!
beware those pretty-wigs who tug at firm-minds
who force you to skirt the true-issue
you plain-refuse to see what you're tripping over
in case it resembles that.. stuff inside
3.
there's a hue of bright-orange in the distance and you can't deny it
it is there
you can't see it yet
but you can smell it
within an arc of heightened-paranoia
it has started burning inside the back of your afrighted-eyes
drying out any recollection of estranged-promise
in a hopeless land of artifice
be not perturbed by fumes which rise in choking-plumes
the workmanship of assiduous imps, dutifully-bound
beset to task all goodness and beleaguer any hope
that only the blind-man can feel in bones-vibrated
(bring forth your legs
tarry not
sing with fully) heartened to glory of light
there be a breaking in the pattern
not everybody made it
so less power to the battle
the circle is not done..
static.. static.. static.. // static.. static.. static.. // static.. static.. static.. // static.. stat.stat.stat....... //
with a half-smile of patience (she says) -
within your dream.. I'm there
I call you forth
into real-light
here..
S T - 30 nov 13
close your eyes and see the beautiful fields
nature's harmony.... lift, lift, lift the heart
:)
sub-exit: party and privy
disabler of dreams
poor relenter of schemes
mauled by media
coated by propaganda
where princesses hunted like wild-animals
and chased by sleek-foreigners into tunnels
like frightened rabbits
who never come out the other side
who's really behind it all?
where daughters of pop-kings
in ostensible suicide-attempts
left alone.. afraid to speak
where rebels with just-cause
feel final December-folly
leave sons and widows
there be those party and privy
(to inside-stuff so scary)
but less said...
save your salt for mountain-goats
and for sweet-soil sanctity