Stormgate
Winds of change
are fanning the flames
are fanned by the deranged.
The flames of misdirection,
the winds giving chase
(orchestrated by instruments to enrage.
Horned cheering section.)
Drones of the BlackRock, riders in holdings
park their game pieces in place,
holding and withholding payment Ace.
Get out of jail free blowhards,
influencerned by the currency,
jeering and cheering till blue in the face,
screaming Climate
Emergent Divergent Hunger Games Emergency.
Media trumpet producing endearings,
(lipstick on a Pig) for their Rat King,
(as on a White Horse)
as we grow too Sheepish to speak out, too pale
and timid to spell out their obvious course,
to vomit our rejection as diseased
as we are enslaved
under cells and convections and
tales intertwined, sanctioned throughout,
Stormgate's, leak, its Codex toothed, overreaching security breach.
Never again will we be as we were,
neVer to take flight,
or steer our own course again in our own
atmosphere.
The Mandate is clear, the Score
is reported by message board monitors
of the process, onboard,
onboarding for the Beast System processors,
riding People, herding, coral carolling
to Lucifer, sacrificial Sheeple in a transitional
Rat Race, vermen looking through peepholes.
The Piper's progress is polaroided in twain,
kodachrome rolls back the esteem, smiles of the insane, back of the head, peace sign.
Shut wide eyes rolling white for dead retina scan mouth foamed enrapture
Signature erasure brain panned for fools gold,
sold out, captured souls,(devout).
Recorders in tow, changing how the wikiwind blows,
how counts voted by Moderator,
gestapo teams, Bon Appetit, Virtual Travel, Vogue, Akinator, Mad Magazine.
(Needle in the Aperture bobbin tattoo
BuckarooBonzai glass saddles and shoes.)
Laser id suture chip sewn in diodes
of TripleBeam Barley, Wheat, Triplesec, meat...
Meta threads to breadcrumb gumshoe private dick heads, treads of
sleuth your every thought and intent, move.
Passenger monitoring, the acceptable temperature, moderate beautiful soup lukewarm chum
to taste an ode to the pasts vernacular
naked lunch humble pie shoots
in the face gruel,
heckler
of riding the storm out without Jesus, fools-Spectacular.
Copyright © Jude Herrick | Year Posted 2023
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