Monday Poem – Monday, June 8th, 2020
Social Media Censorship, Censorship, Bombastic Rhetoric, Demagoguery,
These are the times that test men’s hearts, whether it is noble to accede to the demands of the social hoi poloi or to confront the whole charade directly, decisively, but with style and aplomb that befits the dandiest of lads, contained within a package of rugged externals, such as sharp-edged bone structures, flannel jackets, beardface, and more.
Do not be conceived by notions of grand airs. The text is thick with the prosaic dressed up as mythological once-in-a-lifetime apocalyptic candy threads.
Sometimes the light is a fury.
Deny light. Separate stone from mud. Walk into the jungle with nothing but a banana sheath.
Lolling across the skies in billowy Jankos, sucking on the green warheads.
Despair. Sometimes the load of lava flung from earth to sea.
The instanza’d rocks
Settle to the bottom of the sea,
Village centers for myriads of luminous things.
Luminate the gate, the star to the black patch in your homemade planetarium.
Underneath that black. The other side of the notion of the prosaic, the silent fills
Leak out of the patch, seemingly
Nothing from nothing.
No. Correction not noted.
Nothing from nothing. But I digress.
The alchemical load of the sulfurous airs is enough to make 24-7 Cable “News” even MORE
Absurd than ACTUAL Fake News.
No. Do not be conceived. Do not let the light of the bombast’s torch
Make of you the shadows flickering across the flame.
You are the maker of the lava flow.
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