Thursday, August 13, 2009

The Corrupt Take Communion Every Sunday

I watch as a watchman would watch his tower,
Asleep in the doldrums, astounded by comforts,

Sardines on his plate slated with celery, his
Conscience suspended among the laundry

Waiting for a Sunday, wilting for caress,
Some buttress to the criminal duress.

Who wants rhyme, why hunger for justice
When justices only hunger for lust? And just

As I was about to tell you---the mange disappears,
Cellophane morass tires of beer molasses,

And we are well-augured by witnesses to the shit,
See the blithe brothers, “forever and ever, all men

Created equal, today and whenever,
When the train leaves at the time of arrival.”

But this cannot wait, I have to protest the crassness.
I cannot be late, I need documenting cameras.

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