There is the immediate and the atmosphere.
Fear of war; touchdown of velociraptors;
a quiet passing; a once again tragedy of
paper rolls, a teacher tripping, tires rolling.
Closeup shots and distant thunder; its cracklings.
Hanging by a thread, sometimes deluded into
thinking things will be alright; with Jesus they are.
The ups and downs; the coaster lumbering over
the camel’s humps; the plummet from Everest;
the mighty arms of our Creator sustains the blows.
Eventually, the coaster comes to rest; wow,
those pearly gates, the mindblowing light that shines;
Jesus will wipe every tear from your eyes.
From my cousin’s eyes, from his two year battle.
His mama, four years ago, on the same day.
Sandwich hugs from his mom and dad. wow.
A push-button blood alarm
scans the receptivity of softly ticking ears.
It is the ever-wakening
never snoozing
internet jungle calling.
Fasting birds as large as velociraptors
insist on being called parrots,
a raucous conversation hardly heard
as it filters through
3-D printed flugelhorns.
A cell awakes vibrates within an ear socket
demanding its early morning diaper change.
Little silver bells are clanging,
A sub-audial cacophony of eager voices
discharging their erotically-charged salvos
Devices cry to be fed.
Now subliminal texts tattoo
a finger pulsing moment.
Thumbs are itching to be mugged, in-plugged,
abused in a bath of warmed-over news.
The scaly parrots are now too loud to hear,
we are near
our minds nailed to a printing block
and tapping impatiently
as reality is swiped this way and that.
The racetrack is galloping,
white rabbits are being
yanked out of top hats so rapidly
we can only blink our replies
in a hand-held, wide-eyed chameleon sky.
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