170817A
------------
Only reason you had to go there
was to see how they slam the door.
If that did not hurt enough
they get to reel you in and let you go.
You will bear the scar from that hook,
for the rest of your natural born days.
You know that you are not the same
as you were before the incident.
Your report does not match theirs,
and there are never any reliable witnesses.
No one seems to be able to verify
any of the contact names and numbers.
That makes you guilty,
and no one believes your statement.
You did not match the right profile,
as dictated by their high school habits.
You get to serve the longest bench penalty,
because no one chose you for their team.
Your membership card was revoked,
proving it only as good as your money.
They seem to spend their time inventing
new ways that they can hurt you.
Whatever their one hand gives you
their other hand would tear away.
----------------------------------------
170817B
-----------
It has all closed in on you,
and there is nowhere to go anymore.
The universe of the wealthy is expanding,
but yours is collapsing in on itself.
You are being rubbed out slowly,
and your playing pieces removed from the board.
It pulls you down,
after you have been bumped off.
The role you were given to play
was never one to become comfortable with.
You were only a foreign observer
from whom the others concealed their affairs.
You seem to lack any anticipated content
in relation to the expectant spaces they create.
You do not know the ritual,
their tribe is always practising.
Letting someone else play their game,
becomes a conferring of a privilege.
You can go play by your self,
and sit in a drab grey corner.
------------------------------------
170817C
------------
Blotting out of the sun,
mars the calendar.
Broad sweep across
the battle lines
of any State religion.
You have to believe it,
whatever it is.
Sometimes not even knowing
what it might really be,
that is blotting it all out.
A total eclipse of reason,
appears now and again,
in the course of histories.
Anything large or small
can go crazy,
-----------------
170817D
-----------
A dry rain fell yesterday,
and a dry rain will fall tomorrow.
This is powder keg weather.
Watching the billboard news
as the traffic snake winds and slides
its way into purgatory.
The world's longest bread lines
forming every day,
from first light until twilight's gleaming.
No one is bothering anymore
to try to sort out the alive from the dead
at the culmination of their daily journeys.
Another monumental upheaval
is raising the threat levels,
as they edge up the barometric scale.
Icons topple from the header,
as east goes west and west goes east,
mixing it up, down in the alleyway.
Shots were fired,
reportedly by the past into the future,
becoming a persistent echo.
History was never what it seemed,
overwritten by circuses and spectacles,
then disembowelled in the Coliseum.
Thud of metal striking against meat,
skips across the dulled present
seas of confusion.
The screams of ambulances,
form tangled clots on major arteries,
typifying a push and shove dance.
Lenin is playing an out of tune piano
somewhere in Washington,
cipher clerks struggling to decode the notes.
-----------------------------------------------------
170818E
-----------
Serpents chasing their own tails
sometimes end up catching them,
even if it kills them.
Infinity is a poison
that very few have any tolerance for,
and with no known antidote.
Where the two loops coil around
coming together to cross and join,
is where all the trouble enters.
An excluded middle,
where the two worlds are joined,
becoming inseparable twins.
One shares the fate of the other,
as they stare in opposite directions,
toward excessively similar horizons.
History repeats,
but not in the habitual manner,
as to the chanced turn around.
That place where the dead can enter
to communicate their anger
to the living.
More than thirty million voices
are so very difficult to silence,
even with footnotes and appendices.
Perhaps it was forty million, or more,
and add to those the countless suffering
who lingered for a longer time.
That book of life is a ledger
that they tried to destroy,
so accounts might never be settled.
------------------------------------------
170817F
-----------
Jungle damp
of corruption:
seepage that corrodes.
Softens up and pulps
the fibre,
until nothing stands up.
Sticks to everything,
until anything good
goes rotten.
More relentless
than any worker,
at creating opportunity.
Has perfected a process
for attacking
nearly anything.
Given enough time,
it dissolves all ties,
eroding any foundations.
Thwarts and eats away
any better intentions,
as its own self preservation.
---------------------------------
170817G
-----------
Nowadays we get immersion,
in trickles of insanity.
The sort of rivers that erode
even the best ideas.
The banks collapsing,
everything is a flood plain
of the same thick mud.
It covers over any real identity,
smeared across the details,
leaving only one bland description.
Nothing gets anywhere in that,
once bogged down,
from trying to go forward.
Wheels spinning forever
throwing up
wild spews of futility.
You can choke in it,
as you end up dragged down,
swallowed up in it.
Some see it welling up at them,
so they reach for something
that might end the experience.
------------------------------------
170817H
------------
Swamp sounds
invade the inner city.
A lagoon,
gone into feeding frenzy.
The wilderness
having closed in,
on the garbage
and the abandonment.
Shadows of foragers
stalking dishevelled hedges,
rummaging around,
among discarded values.
Leering facades
of once upon a time
land of opportunity,
soliciting for believers.
Storefront churches
offering petrochemical creamer
mixed with caffeine,
along with a stale doughnut.
Left behind things,
clutter a window,
offering reminders
that it was once Christmas.
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