Socio-Political (De)volution

With dust for fingers
we trace lines in the clean
white
signature of God

(or your highest power of choice)

and dream it stays.
The grey streaks,
the amber waves of
brain
burned out on too much television.

Which does not rot your heart,
surveys say. Light up for a

Thrill ride,
on the musical edge.
Songs used to be written in
His Name
but these days just
spit it out like a curse.

Could be worse. Never better though, and
if you vote for me I'll make your piss

Rainbows. Yes.
And shit gold.I have a plan!
To make everything sharp and clean
and right
in these childish scrawls of
grit, cheap grime painted glitz.

Just don't mention where,
too loud.

With dust for fingers
we paint lies in the buried name
of God

(or your new-age substitute of choice)

and forget who made hands
in the first place.


AKL 2005