Slipping down a flight of stairs,
but never hitting the ground;
my heels itch and my calves ache
the brain shakes as the ground quakes.
Praying to a plastic god,
shrouded in orange and corn husks
and country clubs counter cologne’s musk.
Fields of fire in my backyard,
but those fields are that of the poppy,
seeds silencing my confusion
into a ritardando of rampant racism;
racing down the mountain on skis
made of cheese graters.
Major proclamation against my entire nation.
“I can feel the ground shake beneath my feet,
I can feel the tumbling down tumbling down.”
Crapping on the metric system,
naming something that takes after something that gives.
ISIS unnerving while the ice is unearthing,
clown town U.S.A..
Creatives using crutches,
flooding the mind with works riddled in LSD to 2CB;
The lost losing minds with government created drugs.
Our minds are the wheels of the wagon,
holding and caressing the bourgeoise, to see the value in itself.
Fighting the top of the mountain, from lower hills surrounding,
this battle has been fought for all time
and is only delayed by distraction.
Only delaying the shot,
that will knock the Donkey Kong
off his high horse of barrels and stolen princesses.
Plumbers connected by the work of other generation’s plumbers,
connected by the world-wide web of feces and goldfish.
Drinking martinis in a dying jazz club,
witness the champions reduced to mere legend within their lifetime;
lost to a sea of Nordstrom piano gigs.
Awaiting the return of a generation led by golden fiddle,
as the rosined strings wind themselves around them,
weaving each into personal handbaskets to hell.
Nay, the clock does not yet strike midnight,
and from the fires abysmal one may yet provide lift to their balloon.
Reread my words and prose, and read them again,
delving deeper, peeling back the layers of the onion
until one reaches the core flavor of the self;
the ooey gooey that exists beyond the genetics.
Water under the bridge;
eyes of the world,
only disconnected through taught biases.
Hand me down knowledge.
In times of all too cold porridge;
slipping into sleep with feet hanging off the bed.
and when one awakens, wake up another.
When the spring wakes us all;
we are infinite;
we are undefeatable.