The Mad Parade
millions of faces
pass me by
like soft white
milken ghost
aimlessly they wander
in gypsy vagabond night
so enslaved
lost in
the mad parade of
society
just working in this
rhetorical pantomime
to pay debts of mortgage
rent or fancy attire
gold infused chariots that are
just destine to rust
and mansions that are
destine to rot
and this flesh turning to dust
into this insane
karmic
merry go round
here we go
l.w. russell (c) 2013
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