it just keeps on rolling down the brick-lined fallopian tubes
bubonic smiles on wasted faces at bus stops
umbrellas covering a multitude of sin from satellite spores
the whole there & back routines of the desperate
those seeking atonement & absolution from canonised cripples
walls smeared with shit/rooms like prisons
death via the matador's lance in a dimly lit arena
peers of peers getting peered at by silk robed lawmakers
media whores milking media darlings by gaslight
trees laughing at their own genocide under an aztec son
artists languishing in the waiting rooms of imbeciles
bombs whistling to earth like giant fortune cookies
good news messages being delivered by the metric ton
scriptwriters watching midday movies for ideas
another microphone another sermon another death
No comments:
Post a Comment