October 25, 2012

poem 398 of a poem a day for 2012

the fancy parting seas of humanity and enmity during a blackout and the drying up of generosity between

we are eternity calling
we want you to keep
your knickers on and
all your senses
about you

the electrical grid
has been sabotaged
there are no television broadcasts
there are only
word of mouth games now
the ham radios are working
but crowding around the tents
seems useless and a chattel response
with the wind calling
in prattle prairie pounds
scattering dry paper sounds
over the concrete
in scurries and curries
of completion
or at least
the secretions
of skin over bones
in the dark

we smell each other
and ourselves, differently
without the incessancy
of white noise hymnals
without humming palpitations
our mouths make
aping blank expressions
in shaken etch-a-sketches
that are waiting rooms
with nurses sliding by
the revolving doors
in candle spun eyes
before any doctor
makes us wonder
if those smiles
are a good thing
while we bleed out
willing to pay
one kidney at a time
for more antibiotics
we heard were stored
here, near the edges
of the windmill forests
turned to triage centers

I am crawling
sick to death
of politics
and its antics
of dehumanization

we can paint
cave walls
with what we
have had poached
in blood and bags

the drip lined garden
variety mined sanctities
of being on our knees
feeding the Earth
with the gravity
from our veins

we dance
our morals
into codes
and bleeds
and we seem
to have been born
with this harvest
in our hands
so that we may
sell ourselves 
more days afoot
when choosing chance 
with a pocket 
full of paper

we quickly fall prey
to the churches
in the dark
their methodologies
of tightly wound bandages
of being in a group
is instinctual
is madness
wanting to survive
being faceted
by exclusions
and the angles
that make
the diamond
shine brightest
on the side
of the fence
that you happen
to be on


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