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April, 1997
John Alphonse
the world is balanced on the head of a pin
redefining the meaning of sin
the seven deadlies still exist
but subtle killers add a twist
smallest things that no one thinks of
what our soil and water stinks of
filtered smoke again will choke
as fishies' little mouthies poke
a ciggy butt's a little thing
but in your throat you will not sing
flush and wash and spray and brush
the chemicals to earthward rush
out the drain and out the brain
and only rings of scum remain
wasting gas and wasting time
nature's misdemeanor crime
raping forests, buy and sell
swirl deeper down the depths of hell
borrowed time, money lent
when our lives on earth are spent
what is it we'll have to show
while relatives burn below?
chasing your tail don't even have one
cut off long ago, still feel it
log on the fire
now spin of the dial
pull up a chair and get warm
popcorn kindling couple beers
potbelly's throwing some heat
images dancing and waving at you
seduction in particles and waves
chemical reactions, electric start
primal programmed automation
domestic beast a global savage
same old prose wearing streamlined clothes
we got what we want but
don't know what to do with it
little sleigh in woods
why have they abandoned you?
ornate detail craftsman's care
proud Christmas present
horse-powered flyer-thru-snow
your wood gray and thin, brass turned green
soon the soil will claim your bones
but not before I hear your scream
"Why have they abandoned me?"
horseless, powerless, lifeless,
you wait among the pines
(they wonder what they'll become)
one hundred years you've spent alone
I hear your desperation
you worked fine, a joy to ride
bells and hoofbeats, snowglide and laughter
those days are your present
you hear humming in the distance
choirs woosh thru slush
sick scent of gas in the breeze
settles on your skin
you weren't asking what you already knew:
you were telling me they're wrong
wild beat paces the flight out of darkness
heartbeat vibes drum through
the bone the skins of war alert
the frightened rush to inject themselves
safely thru time as time rushes by
stragglers sweat the beat intense
pounding skins resound
musical chairs a dangerous game
once the war vibes ring
Copyright © John Alphonse
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John Alphonse is reality x editor and publisher.