the fog banks flowed over the mausoleums
in the night
changing the engravings to suit the modern world
they speak in endless graveyard shifts
the sky rains funnel clouds like mothers tears
and all I can hear are fog horns from white marble steps
sirens with human faces heat blood
in vats of patriotism and other ideological mis-
representations of humanity
you think your life is a christmas tree
but your hanging all your ornaments on the same branch
your looks won’t hold forever
your teeth may look like pearls but they cut like diamonds
there’s an open mic on a dimly lit stage speaking truth
while the lights focus on dry tongues regurgitating
hopeless metaphors on the news
ripping at promises like
wet paper towels
the fingertips keep reaching
but there’s not enough friction for movement
your morality casts a shadow like the mid-day sun
it’s hot and narrowly focused
at one time you nearly broke this
the backs were heavy
the fog remains pervasive
zip up your pants
your scandals are showing
you can claim its luck
but its easy to get the larger side of the wishbone when you control
both sides
linguistic battlement facade is all you hide behind
spitting burning arrows from the deck
but the foam bricks are swaying in the wind
you don’t want a war with ants
lethargic letters falling from gaping
mouth doesn’t cover it anymore
these cash cows only produce dirty c.r.e.a.m.
your words flick around like a flame
burning those too near
they echo from caskets carrying living souls
that crawl across the grave dirt
ground trying to escape the low-lying fog
you lay out the powder yourself
now we’re all snorting lines of exidust
in chains of your lexiconquistadors making
we tie ourselves to the ground and struggle to get out of your imprinted tracks
the political diatribe is a logical landslide
your policies are wasted ejaculates tossed in the garbage
on
used up towels
they could have been somebody
look
we aren’t babies trying to walk
when we haven’t mastered crawling yet
we are a society forced to crawl when we know we can run