Wednesday, April 17, 2013

In this collision course...

I'd lay a bet down on this quarter horse
even when he's on an unrequitted collision course
cause there's nothin worse
than subverting the outcome for an empty purse

he becomes a subliminal victim who is pivotal
in the rise and fall of the digital
mega-pixalated yet invisible
criminal enterprise who is striving for the literal
signs that their uprising,
is now heading toward the visual
definition of the end of the line,
yet confined to the pre-assigned material
outlining the sublimation of the holy and ethereal
by denying closed eyes for the misanthropic lies of the surreal
while trusting senses that are strangers
offering false hope for real danger,
the tattered remnants in piecemeal.
starring at a mirrored image inqusitive
wondering if this is for real

In this collision course
incontrovertable evidence that the defense forced
to the tongue tied jury, staring like a wide eyed fire cracker
distractor of the middle of the packer
who would rather explode than begin to attack her
for the guilt that would spawn from that violent matter
that soon bursts like excited atoms in the nuclear reactor
poised hell-bent on a multi core melt down disaster
sending all living creations straight to the hereafter.

in this collision course
fictional realities, caused the mind to divorce
all possible actions simultaneous distractions
counteracting the last basking moment as if fractions
rehashed the common denominator, now basking
below the line, so below the radar, everlasting
it's pale visage grimaced against its young age contrasting
the vertigo-holy roll, spun face up, with rotations lasting
nearly half an hour past, the last detonated blasting

in this collision course
worse off then the tattered remnants of lost wars
forced wounded soldiers from battlefield to golf course
with cleats clicking like machine ticking off phantom morse
chores abandoned, for the random hand of some cheap whores
consorting with cohorts, blow-blowdarts blown at a war horse,
disemboweling nietzsche, incompletely, spewing psycho-babble discourse
enormous, weight hung Wiley, smiling acme catalog mail source
plugged their three pronged prognosis, stamped and endorsed
the metal acting fastened, fashion, camo-laden ashes with no remorse