When. . .

Posted: October 16, 2012 in Burn Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

When the learning curve
Is a downward spiral
That too closely reminds us of flushing from porcelain to pipes
And the mechanism that runs us
Is run ragged
Terra firma turned rugged
And disillusion is a character-limited
Virus gone viral.

When youthful vigor
Tastes like vinegar
On the lips of leaders
And spews from their mouths a choked on cocktail
Of venom
And frustration
A firespitting sideshow with no circus to cling to
That has three rings that look more like shackles.

We watch long division
Divide us too long
Until mathematically we’re closing in on imaginary numbers
Not ball and not chain
But decimal point prison
Solitary confinement
Confirming entwinement
Boas constricting with predatory precision.

When civil wars are fed by silver spoons
And civil tongues like slivers jab
And politically correct
Is political rhetoric
As the pendulum swings
We find we might be in the pit
Eight feet long by six feet deep
On eight arachnid legs the truth scurries from light
We sit back and stare with bloodshot eyes
At the bloodshed
We’re bleeding out and this bloodletting
Is more like letting blood spill
And our hands are stained
With the brooding ink of unwritten promises.

When we’re a nation of narcoleptics
Operating heavy machinery
Against the doctor’s orders
And hoping our Matador’s dance with Red Bull
Will keep us awake.
When we tune in for primetime
And watch podiums clash
And throw our hands in the air like a stadium tsunami
In frustrated
Growling lung drum rolls
Of disbelievers.

When white noise
Turns static
Turns echoes
Turns thunder.

When tradition get bucked long before
The eight second mark
And hope erupts deep in the minds of the young
And blood-pumping hearts
Take heart
And take heed
And the spin cycle motor burns out
To find home in a hearse.

When them becomes us
And us becomes we
And one becomes many
Tyranny goes cadaver in the night
And morning breaks like a silky Atlantic wave
Licking at the toes of freedom in the sand.

FIN

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