Saturday, 31 October 2015

Turbulent Trails

A Collin on Collins Street
Elizabeth on Elizabeth Street
Collisions on Bullshit Boulevard
Open windows
Closed minds
Closing shop
Open legs
Babies born so easily bored

A boy fixes his hair
Insufficient reflection inside the car
An air conditioner barely battles the heat
The scorching relentlessness of the stubborn sun
The despondent guitar
In consideration of the despairing melody
The cancer blows up inside my ears

Instruments mocking language
An iced mocha, an acoustic guitar
No wonder why they volunteer to die for diamonds
Roofless cars commit
Ruthless honking
It’s called the public calling reform

No answer
Bash the bastards thick and greedy
Greedy and gross
They are grouped together it’s just hard to explain
Why is everyone so serious 
Your cue to laugh

Glass eyes
Glassed eye
The world is blind
Glassed faces
Glass buildings
Glass windows
Glassy
What a glassic

Five earrings each ear
Five in total, the other bare
Like salad dressing in golden attire
What silent disgrace
Our sea-drenched globe
A moth landing on sweating skin

Freedom is the wind washing my face
The triumph of trumpets
And the saxophone slowly butchering sadness
If life is prolonging the inevitable
Then being dead must be
The most realistic form of life