anonymous manifestos scrawled
on bathroom walls
dissident banned novels written
in the margins of deranged office memos -
conceived in unwelcome fits
of consciousness;
broken water on empty bus station
waiting room chairs -
placentas draped like shrouds
over ancient personal television sets -
the coin-operated restless cinema
of the wandering relics
now chained to desk chairs
and cubicle walls
and travelling inbox connectivity -
like dogs bred to run
starving in cramped cages
howling at a moon they'll never see.
so the burn starts at midnight
and seeps down your throat until 3
when the quarters have run out
and the screen has gone black
and the loudspeaker makes a proclamation
fit for a Lincoln,
but not for you.
try to sleep now under rusted pipes
leaking the elixicir of delusions
that poetry is piety
and ignorance is innocence;
but the man with the shining brass buttons
and the flat topped cap
ushers you back into the cold,
where the mind is uncomfortably clear
because morning is near -
because notions of peaceful oceans
and Westward directions
and pacific erections
and mad insurrections
are fading with the bugle wind -
and the dogs line up
the dogs fall in
somewhere in the distance
a sad violin...
"and they're off"
Brown Bear by Bell
Chad Halliday, a/k/a thelonius Lorenz, f/k/a Eric Estrada: gypsy fishmonger, moral compass of the now defunct polka band, Uncle Fingers and the Terrifying Re
Graffiti by IMPstyles APN.
This
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