Monday, July 14, 2008

Chime and Time

Dong dong dong.
Gone forever. Ever. Ever.

It is in. All within.
In this sorrow, gone tomorrow.
In this sorrow, we live,
embers of the might that might.
Might made Right, but not right,
Rights! How little we cared for them,
so long as we had our freedom.

Feed and feast. Feed and feast.
Call and cometh, the ice man cometh,
to freeze our lives and hopes,
as we boil like the frogs.

Come and going, ever turning.
Can we, some how can we,
split the difference,
drill for corn in the gulf of mexico
and under arctic snows?

Dong ding dong.
Not the bell.
Once the dead feasted on mud in the underworld,
is n't is n't is n't that we we do now
even as we live with it.
The oil we eat as as brown confections.

Here there here there here there.
Here and there.
In country the fought for our freedom.
Or is it free dumb, and fat as well.

How many metals are there in a town,
that reverberate too to fro.
Is that were my youth will go?
Into that hole in the desert
in the desert

Decade worn like a badge of honor.
Worn to the nub and bone.
Was this what you meant and made.

Religion of death.
Your cult of party wealth.
Dissonance only the harmony of making
fraught furry of the lies you told yourselves.

You meant well.
No, you meant well. Wells. Drill the wells.

And so, thus and so,
Und so, und so, and so so and so
we are reaped by what you sowed.
Sows. Pigs. Slobbering at the trough.

Choking now that there is too much blood,
sloshed in your money and oil.

Don't think we don't know or will forgive.

Get us down.
Down with us, in this pit you dug.

Engines turning, ships returning,
filled with plastic.

Come with me to the mountain top,
and look out over your promised land.

You've promised all of it, each and every bit of it.

This land was your land.
But it's now other's land.
All in hand.

Plunk out the piano blues,
in crescent city hues.
We'll get on, and pay your dues.
While from the screen fat brother screams.

And then looks into each and every house and home,
even when you are alone,
to know what you watched and what you saw,
so he can gut you with his claw.

Smile. It's there. Over under,
we converse over tea with the artistry.
But nothing left for you,
so nothing left for me.

Dong dong dong.
And it's gone. This decade.

And its, and its, and its memory.

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