Tuesday, August 10, 2010

wonder will not wonder long
at the absence of grace as wisdom


work hard to find
and assholes are voting back in
the very sociopaths
who nearly wrecked the world's economies
and put these assholes on the bread lines

is there anything stupider than a white
conservative American?


in a matter of months
a new style for a new age suddenly sprouts

catching us old-timers
at a loss for livelihood in a world so utterly

different so utterly ruined
that death is preferable to living in constant

conflict with smug rude brats
who endure because it is a felony to kill--

an absolute fiasco in the Retribution
Department so this is how I will end (who help me)

dying in the street because I can't afford the hospital
and wandering my mind like I wander through

the streets pleased as punch to be getting screwed
a ton of reality checks without one fortunate break


clowny admitted it
those are his fingerprints on your scrotum
but you can't do anything about because he died
a while back mauled by an angered lion
somewhere among the cages as they hauled up the tent
in the field and

you waiting with the others --watching--
wondering why the bull gangs and the performers
and especially the clowns smelled of whiskey breath
and body odor as if lice in the crotch
of the ringmaster were invited to sing and a damp song
rose out of the--oh yes--bottle they tugged

now tub-thumping circus music ties the cold sweat
to the muffled event
trembling under trapeze and wire-walker
watching this--this--diminished Arlecchino--
heinous harlequin degenerated to common clowny
no one likes because they are so damned creepy


don't ask me some foolish question

I have no love for mockery

I have no patience with petulance

I disdain your condescension

and look forward to the affirmation

of justice your fall will demonstrate

I will look behind the shrubs

that camouflage your moat

seeking your gleaming throat

finding only your tracks

divoting in escape

heaped with heavy meetings

and sorely indulged yearnings

so do not judge my refusal

to join you in bad surrealism

I have my own burdens

and you can choke on your resentment--


the wise man continues to learn--

the fool knows all


I weave in and out
what will be accomplished and
what will be abandoned

I stagger in ignorance
because I do not know the worth
if it mattered

even if it did how would I know
for what purpose and to what end--

as if I were wise enough to rule the stars

Content (c) 2008-2010 Philip Milito.

No comments: