the book of seven shortcuts

march
to the clockwork motion of
tyrants
bended beneath the subtlety
of oblique oppression
as a bloody orange ball
climbs over the horizon
one final time

negated notion
with broken toys
and decadent decoys
we drug the cynic
while lurking amidst the bottom firewall
of babylon’s false grandeur

homegrown drones
sent from
overgrown
death crones
ohh how they seek to
spy the sacramental hour

defunct and
settled in the solitary sounds
of no success
eternity’s gaze seems
somehow shorter now
as i sit and drink in
another faded and frugal monday

high above the absent ashes
of yesterday’s screams
we disseminate deadly daydreams
speaking sparkling riddles
and late prophecies
to imaginary friends

no retreat set to repeat

as violated vegetable valor,
vicarious in it’s virtue
is validated and vacated
within the background world

listless
as the days swell
silent among a stainless spell
we follow a generic infidel
seeking to dispel
majestic moments of nothing

with dreams like copper toothpaste
we wake in repetitive harmony
dancing like prosaic misfits
to an all too familiar tune

mesmerize
contract and cannibalize
useless institutions
we will destabilize
and sanitize
with
revenant creation
and
nervous exaltation
as we weep
stutter, and creep
towards confident uncertainty

the karma bums missed the morning minute
don’t talk to me about world peace or cancer
she said, as her lips shaped saturated symbols
upon the empty space between us and them
and now
preaching on a pile of shit
we
slant, chant, and rant
never to recant