snow white mornings
marooned under
malfeasant middled-aged madnesses
as we relieve squalid ghost
of their memorex duties

walking on icy streets
scented with day old cologne
we carry machine guns
loaded with paper bullets

no religion
empty reaction
and sudden reanimation
as flower girls
become bag ladies
and old men
try to outlast this new breed
drunk and a little too wise for the game
it seems the playlist is always the same

devils and daydreams
swimming through
daisy-chains of derelict decoration
decadent and desired
no more
a darkened moment
and the flow is altered

corporate salesmen create flyers
to rob the virtuous
and poets compose empires
drawn from backward lines
of fallen concubines

the playwrights are priests
from another age
and the president is a dog
born from an ignorant populace’s rage

radical rites chanted by
ragged rabble-rousers
radiating rabid rational
south of liberty drive
where vampires dwell
socialism is on the rise
waiting to compel (the masses)
brutalize, compromise, antagonize
it’s a philosophy that fails to civilize

catatonic entropy
and terror in angular thought
welfare, warfare
everywhere to be found
no rebound
as we are held
upon this empty

writing with toothaches
and worn out soles
the dead grass of winter
is quietly waiting for
spring’s mysteries to unfold

plastic reality
manifested in songs
sung off key
in too deep
and half asleep
wrapped in seasonal abnormality
we are ripped from dreams
of mortal sexuality
and theatrical technicality

old moon and new
we are bathed in a blood hue
with racketeering rituals on hold
waiting to to escape this vulgar curfew



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