An Indignation of Rice Wine and Silver Bullets
The breeze blew summer speed as it gaily haunted,
wafting across fields of rye, meadows of barley
and buffeting walls in a cement jungle,
Reasons for living were being thrown out windows,
the bloody mess for ambulance crews
and coroners ever alert for more business.
The fiery sun sends skin red at a beach,
the holidaymakers dancing two step in sands
and passing blow up beach balls to happy children.
We picked a spot next to Teds Drive in, sequestered,
the remnants of last nights gang brawl cleansed
and put to jail where the dying languish in memorium.
I know the newspapers will say Father Granchion erred,
telling his gathered mass that the Earth is finite,
that The Jesus Man is late in arriving, squirrels gather nuts.
Gaily clad third graders dance with feet pointed - ballet style,
the dogs in the City pound look miserable, too downtrodden
to make viable pets, the lethal injection a kindness.
Robustly, I chase dandelions in a paddock of dock and hemlock,
a mission to clarify my own sanity and to enact chasing dreams
and several conditions of fantasy, my energy is high today.
But in the cities with their gray and green edifices, windows rattle,
the last train for the country leaving with the last people
and discovering the hinterland is barren too, Armageddon.
The breeze blew summer speed as it gaily haunted,
wafting across fields of rye, meadows of barley
and buffeting walls in a cement jungle,
Reasons for living were being thrown out windows,
the bloody mess for ambulance crews
and coroners ever alert for more business.
The fiery sun sends skin red at a beach,
the holidaymakers dancing two step in sands
and passing blow up beach balls to happy children.
We picked a spot next to Teds Drive in, sequestered,
the remnants of last nights gang brawl cleansed
and put to jail where the dying languish in memorium.
I know the newspapers will say Father Granchion erred,
telling his gathered mass that the Earth is finite,
that The Jesus Man is late in arriving, squirrels gather nuts.
Gaily clad third graders dance with feet pointed - ballet style,
the dogs in the City pound look miserable, too downtrodden
to make viable pets, the lethal injection a kindness.
Robustly, I chase dandelions in a paddock of dock and hemlock,
a mission to clarify my own sanity and to enact chasing dreams
and several conditions of fantasy, my energy is high today.
But in the cities with their gray and green edifices, windows rattle,
the last train for the country leaving with the last people
and discovering the hinterland is barren too, Armageddon.
