alive at 3:50 am

were that we were alive
all the dogs of hell
would laugh
in the face of
this stuttering doom

were that we were alive
truckers and factory workers
would claim fame
in the prophecy of
a never-ending tomorrow

were that we were alive
the monks and maidens
would dance madly
in the throes of forgotten passion
falling to a floor of black flowers

were that we were alive
we wouldn’t be strangers
in the face of
symbolically drunk
connections

backwards and forwards
we would chant secret verses
into a tumescent night
summoning love
and an infinite initiation
of macabre intoxication

were that we were alive
politicians, media whores, and racist mongrels
would throw themselves
into angry volcanoes
to appease the gods of diversity

were that we were alive
nationalism would be discarded
and the death of the state
would become a grand holiday

were that we were alive
war would be just
an outdated and discredited fable
rendered inert and
remembered with remorse

were that we were alive
curses would become blessing
and the great hidden churches of old
would rise to rival an unforgiving sun

wandering burnt and dry mornings
we are listening to echoes
from the future
and seeking to renew
the dreams that fools
wish to discontinue

were that we were alive
time would have little meaning
as we sit on the slopes
of another grey morning
sometimes moving
to the cadence of blips and beeps
and silently creeping
under the belly of another caffeinated creature
slithering along an uncertain shore
wondering
what chaos does he have in store
for the blindfolded masses?

350-alive-at-350-am

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