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Poem

in all human history this is being said now
as the flies gather about my corpse
and its waiting Molotov cocktail booby trap
we all feast upon what we were
with more monotonous regularity
than what we might become
with all the ardor an erased memory can provide
a new non existence for the masses
providing all the approved postulates
a life in hiding might require
all the while putting your money
on the distant possibility of infinite variety
my local Gauleiter goes name your price
a clear conscience I spit in his face
not exactly an illustration of long term thinking
but since when has my ethical framework
been other than a grand encircling conceit
that ignorance is power
no wonder this non-transient anemia
turning each footfall into a determination
that the effort of running sweat off my heels
will sweeten the air I breathe by several
microns fewer particles of mere belief
the scent of exploitation in my nostrils
the beatings will continue until morale improves
went Gau who continued holding all the cards
shall we play ziss one he smirks
and smacks the green baize with a Joker
I have the writhing suspicion
the cards in his hand are all Jokers
truth Joker hope Joker God Joker bliss Joker
playing you and me for epiphany chumps
a piano wire garrote around comparison
pulled a bit too hard and my petroleum mousetrap
flares ardently phosphorescing Gau's face
here's my mirror Gau
in case your axons remain shunted
to this blazing irregularity

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