Saturday, January 26, 2013

A spell of waking

We have entered hungrily
into the final phase condition,
our armor thin, ignorant, glossy,
in 100 years there'll be nothing but
victory and starving patriots--
little bloated child patriots--howling
before the king's hairless legs,
100 years ago it was the same
image fetish,

for those who'll sleep through it
we have reserved a seat beneath the glowing sun
acronyms that you worshiped
all your living lives,

feel free to thank the drone
clumsy-bots closing in,
feel free to sweeten up and

"We are the legion
the brain lesion
the storming lie
feast on our words
our works
bloat, love, obey"

on repeat on head phone karma
there's special words
forming ideas building submission
constructing time,

It's a jigsaw puzzle fuck,
if you think truth is attainable
you'll end up lost within somewhere
scarred on the cult blaxk other-side
and these ink blots will never find
you 26 letters rearranged
sinking within the hologram
phantom, the grand step-ladder,
as a way out and above,
into the mess, drunk to the bliss,
this can be read forwards or back.

1 comment:

  1. Another awesome commentary. A lot of poets, regardless of era, tend to chronicle the times in a useless way. I always appreciate your take, the phrasing and emotion and creativity.

    The amount of applicable acronyms one could think of is staggering, too.