I walk with the manic pace of modernization,
footsteps thumping the cool Earth
in time to the flickering, hurried heat of the hell-bent Heart.
A crowd of festivity seekers weaves this way and that,
a mercurial mass of "I"-onized energy,
all becoming one amalgam of Form and Matter
not yet made realized by the Master Sculptor's hand,
as they wrestle with the Ultimate Question:
"Oh, how to live as one and One?"
Doomsday sayers exalt themselves upon rusted trashcan barrels,
providing ample opportunity for strict Unity,
as they hand out Salvation & Damnation in one heaping helping,
letting all whom, excluding themselves have sinned,
cast away their own stones of fire and brim.
The streets become a fatal sea of discarded Bible tracts,
blotted with tiny smudges of blood-
the papercuts of overcoercion to rebellion-
"Here is my blood, take of it and lick,"
the formulaic laws of Mortalkind's encumbrace,
a cup ever runneth over.
A young mother strains to the cumbersome gravity of Son & Self,
as she tries to defy her own Youth,
twisting and fidgeting in her own skin to pick up her boy who,
sensing Mother's anxiety through the telepathic tendencies of Mother & Child,
now reaches out a tiny hand, which is creased and lined already
with such Willful Dependence,
to seek out her warm, nourishing breast,
latching onto the cycle of redundant Instinct in a world
pulsating and aching from the perversions of Infancy-
the all-too-early sodomization of those things better left unknown,
morphed into Death's heyday at the first wailing breath.
I am still and silent as I ponder those who ravage themselves
with the ill-paradox of over-population, trial & tribulation,
as they bring life after death after life after death
into this new-old world only to find themselves submitting-
only to find themselves becoming the Scapegoats of all Dire Digression,
as their children grow up/down/every which way that is loose-
and they look on in abject terror,
as all the while, Fate stands by with a shit-eating grin.
