Aperture
as I am driving sideways down a slippery mine field
you sink your warped teeth into words
that sound like the cawing of dead ideas
from the aperture of a fresh
flute hole
hitting octaves of neon and concrete
I want to buy because I have nothing
to sell
leaving the soul to the side-lay-away-creation
as an afterthought
witnessing the new crust form around
the lips of tired old platitudes
the shock sets in
the realization makes for embarrassing dark
silhouettes around the groin region
I am moving through the words that compel
me to buy/be/show/expound
who the person inside the pupa is...
the gods have had their time
the vampires had their time
the religious zealots have had too much time
and time is precious here
when we're talking about the state of things
maybe there are too many drunks
thugs
drugs
mugs
slugs
blogs
and bugs
to differentiate
between who is helping and
who is helping themselves to another
full platter
... should the buffet line become a chaotic mess
and the chicken-fried steak fly
about in the manerisms of ufo's
grab the shield of apathy
and run like the dead with somewhere to go
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