Laugh at time as the rotation
pantomimes to crawl a ladder
Year and month, warmth and cold, remembrance
For births and deaths and just
how old
One has come is not representative
of the toll
The lines and signs, the “It will
be better next times”
See the scale and bribe the ales
to make a difference
In the morn, waking at staring at
the same sun
Given fireball to cure the
insomnia of latent consequence
Make believe the life of box cars
is not bumping one coast
To the other back around and
boomerang, going nowhere
But the same states, matters not
when the engineer applies the breaks
Horn that whistle! Blow that
Jericho Blow!
Heard the shaking city and still
the walls they hold
Prison or a bastion, definition by
the faction
Of the days molded by the weather
I missed the postal drop,”three-thousand
five-hundred miles away”
“What would you change if you
could?”
December or February, spelunking
dead canaries
Four years ago and so and so the
seasons never roll
“Been a Long December,” but I
guess you know
See it on the faces of a nation
bumping bureaucrats
Billionaire bank accounts and
fast-food Honey-boo-boo nation
Apathy like snowfall, burnt eyes
and internet polls
Numb, numb, numb, bang the drum!
Stick my brain inside the oil and
let the fear run
Given in to the slick; coat the
coast and use the oblongata like a dipstick
Measure the treasure of what is
in a man to last; escalating urge to stand
Get up and walk out; call it a
ten-run rule
Who wants to be part, a place to
go, want out to see more perdition?
Seems a fool’s errand as this is
a damned permission
For a sundress to utter yes in
retort to start the day without the curse
Whistle blows on the train, hitchhiking
and no Woody Guthrie to be found.
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