Askew
sheets of light from times that’ve passed &
(patterns of events
that try to circumvent)
clichés dancing ‘pon the looking glass
(original overcast clouds
placing bets upon the rent)
where places drift along the sea
(introverted romantic something somethings
being labeled criminal)
as Dali’s clocks did drip & tease &
(whilst the hoity-toity high society harlequins
are dubbed seminal)
from the egg his wife did come
(merely chatter, merely filler,
merely wasted time is found)
along the beach a silent song
(when original tunes are ignored
for those tramping round the town)
a place to run when problems come
(be them neon, be them glitter,
be them televised in the day)
insanity claims the sanest ones
(nothing molds so well so to exploit,
better than the softest clay)
still as the snow covers all the tracks &
(full of figureheads & liars getting up to the pulpit
to say their piece)
all one’s life’s packed in a sack
(like genitals on the slab
seething sores & bearing yeast)
the quicker all the lot is done
(telling torrent tales of tortured lands &
faces they’ll never know)
the sooner death for everyone
(using everyone as bargaining chips
just to gain a few more pounds)
but is the dream one’s having now
(smoking cigarettes to bear the look
of some hollywood glammy putz)
any different from a walkabout?
(streaming show suits & ill-gotten gains,
twisting, turning in the lutz)
another clue, another quiz,
another care for an idiot.
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