Shake off the anesthetic

There is no judgment in time    
its the aether throughout the universe    
without the calendar of our    
finest scholars,    
   
or its rotten life    
with Bogart & bag abused books,    
pen-demagogues and tongue importers;    
festered horehound pernicious —     
lest be my soul ripped up    
   
where passengers wake up and    
smell the martyrs & ( who carp on    
the use of science)    
shake off the anesthetic of familiarity.