October 25, 2012

poem 397 of a poem a day for 2012

daydream pickaxe

wear the well
draw for sale
every messiah
is pointed by season
modern time
is clock-less reason
or at least
the turn buckle
ordinal points
on our maps
guide painted
and engraved with
magnets and groceries
inside the pre-frontal lobes
I am still turned on
despite the jade
I still remember
what it means
to be altruistic
and simplistic
needing to please
being written
and unwritten
through generations
of industrial, molecular
breakdown, breeding

the genomic code
is the box Pandora kept
and we are thieving
its sanctuary
with our eyes
cutting slow proliferations
of psychopathic minds
in checkout lines
tined snakebites
in our arteries
filling with carbon fuels
in go and careens
in rubber wheeled
coffin screams
the radio is on
and it is somebody’s
Elvis again
paused on velvet
catching the grin
folding paper dollars
hollering for pyramid sin
for the power
of the community
to be wielded
without individual glory
bore-holing reason
keeping each animal at bay
every madness in harness
and dog law response chains

here in America
the story
is constantly changing
to fit the pattern
of politicization
too little social dialogue
too much topical interaction
too many citizenry regulations
too little corporate ones
it’s all absolute zeroes
trying to trickle down
to find a sound
where the white noise
bleeds you the least
so your day count
is a long one
and you live
with enough hope
that one day
we might just
evolve enough to keep
Pandora's box closed
for Her


No comments:

Post a Comment