deepundergroundpoetry.com
American Homunculus
Things are about to break,
it's on the tongue of the world-
we're
about to
synchronize
fomented worms
in misery
zap with certain
electricity,
mass = hypnotized:
where will a town mouse
hide
from bill-collecting
fat cat rage
of rubes & cons
across the Rubicon?
This land is our land,
from bubbling cauldron
to breeding bored
in an overflow
of nowhere to go but
up
when the lights go
down;
I'm gonna be on the
wrong side of town,
in the Great Work
and grinding heart
of abandoned souls
& toxic minds
starving for the
ground floor wisdom
from gut job goblins
agape at failed wizards----
where will they be
with their newfound
simplicity?
These precious children
out on their killing spree?
Best keep that shotgun handy,
there ain't much else
for a middle-class dandy,
there's something in the water,
there's a charge in the air,
there's a ring in the dirt...
our land is ablaze,
branded with a seal
of salted earth
through flesh & steel.
The levee's about to burst,
it's on the face of the world
we're
about to
synthesize-
rifled worms
of history
abuzz with certain
electricity.
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