I have nothing to say
I gather words like dead wood
But the fog is thick and damp
And her moisture has put out the sun
So I can't start a fire.
I need something dry and crisp
Something fresh off the presses…
The confetti of hastily shredded documents,
A crumpled ball of waste paper
With scribblings of rejected ideas
-- A book would do,
A book of poetry
With words that had run their course
Recycled back to nature from whence they came
Ashes to ashes…
From the unconsciousness of life
Teeming and multiplying
Tricking with disguise,
The parts from the whole,
Words that describe
Words that convince,
Words that lie,
Words that spin webs of illusion
Strong enough to hold up the world
As they crystallize
Into the tenets
That cause us to see the same movie,
Buy into the right program
Speak the same language
Because success is a measure
Of how well you sound the correct tone
How mainstream accessible you are
How far you swerved off the road…
Truth is cancerous to the cancer
Must be erratecated
Amass the antibodies!
Bring on the white corpuscles!
For if not properly fooled
We don't exist…
