Saturday, May 25, 2024

Jay Simpson


End Game


Surreptitious explorations finances on the run

private arrangements on standby artistic merit doubtful

several plagues advance at once total destruction the end game

numerous stories unfold as lies poisonous effluent derides the cause

impartiality’s future desire empty cauldron’s riotous game

roll around like your life depends on it watch the stars crystalize

follow the rainbow’s empty rhetoric walk the streets defy the odds

break open the fading truth remember the last cautionary tale

lay naked before the universe listen to the emptiness





Infested Rhetoric


automatons

pedantic interiors

painstakingly constructed

terror repeated

clowns of industry

clones of popularity

acrobatic delivery

infested rhetoric

swiss made

beat lost

unhinged melody

reverential shame

limited lineals

leads to nowhere

iconoclasts crucified

graffiti removed

wagon emptied

Everest mounted

flag erected

inequity viewed





The Red Flag


The red flag blows in the breeze touching paranoid birds in flight. God plucks souls from the earth, places them in giant bowls with bread, water, goldfish and plastic reeds for ambience. The color red is insightful and must be avoided in fear of death and the hellish fire that consumes wayward women and girls. And drag queens. Royal blood is blue and rarified. It protects upper classes from insight and allows them to rule us, abuse us, wear tiaras and talk with silly voices. War is red too, and insightful. It remembers Death. Destruction. Stolen Land. Corruption. Bigotry. Chauvinism. The forgotten ones put down broken bones, hear voices from the past. They drink the blood of civilizations. The Rising Sea swallows the remains.


Michelle Smith

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