Truth on Channel Five

These wailing cries from greying skulls say
I remember Optimus,
he lingered on long past his Prime
,
which hurts, somehow,
more than dear Aurora's thorns
or puppeteering falsities.

It was all true, you see.

So Cinders sang her lovely name
against a hundred Saturdays,
and none of them seemed real.
Speed Racing instead,
she suffers tire tracks
on splintered hands.
The scars remain,
withered,
as White awakens
in the Snow alone--
her beloved Captain has gone
to deeper Planets still
Before Time,
to Lands where Dinosau(ce)rs roam.

Over the Rainbow Brite,

and through the woods,
to Oliver's house we go
(as if he were expecting Company).
Wishing for dragon saints,
instead we find only Unicorns,
The Last in line before Alice
fell. I Wonder at a Land
where rabbits do not multiply
but divide like tea taken out of time--
it runs Short,
let them eat Strawberry instead of Cake.
We are ignoring the hungry anway.

This is all true, you see.

Once we would have liked to Rock but
Man, that tune gets old when we refuse.
Like boys in tights trade
rubies for arrow shafts the
screens shade Silver,
the Surf gone gold on aging tapes.
The rain is coming,
the end is oiltax in god's eyes,
you cannot say that on television
and Muriel will marry her father's son as Worlds
Turn
and you will Care,
for this is all our records Bear.

There are no words when sirens scream.

You can ask Peter how it all Panned out,
he'll tell you he remembered Optimus
who never really hit his Prime.
Like Dogs, All wag their heads at this;
Heaven was never meant for those
who won't Transform.

This is all true, you see.

AKL 2006