deepundergroundpoetry.com

.:10,000 More:.

day breaks rushing pass yesterday's fall
the third eye squints; is this the get up?
while in this dismal light
a fuzzed chin within that light
attempts to fill in the cracks
all the while muzzling back a pop
a pop seen popping off too many times
at times, unreasonable minds
they just stare into the light
into that neon glare channeling their apathy

we�re distracted continuously
by the ongoing chaos we see
yet together; here again we take a look
taking on the look of the wild-eyed inhabitants
the ones charting these idle wild streets
streets occupied by today's redundancies
so far in this century what else is new?
everything & nothing

this we confess; what a mess
as invitations are received
what�s perceived is an attempt to ward off
time-warped catastrophes; the invites freely given
given to address the chaos we're living
given up freely in care of the children
the children and their children
altogether wishing for it to get done
safer streets for everyone

yet this is a war; visions of blood & gore
where alotta folks have been more than sore
as they walk the core looking for the battles won
where so many simply want it over & done
none of this is fun; where seen are the overcast eyes
blurred, almost blown and�who�s to atone?
as we�re here surveying our own
our humanity�this insanity
rolling stealth as the wildest of wild-eyed idolaters �
too many manipulated by
the manipulators

subscribing to machinations of defeat
just part & parcel of the ongoing bittersweet
challenging the patience of poor folk
broken folk attempting to get mended
the unattended who too often die
we question why where it's beyond belief how we survive
waiting for that next newer; that next predacious storm to occur
that continuing blur with families suffering
going through a far too familiar grief
any happiness; its lifespan is far too brief

good grief; nah...that ain't even the case
odd, but one can see the turmoil all up in our face
this, the ongoing seriousness of a bad joke
our third eye always & continuously getting poked
as it squints�bad vision most the time
call it a definition of "almost blind" almost outta time
scrambling in a stupor to see daylight
looking, seeing that none of this; none of it is right

the perpetuating, the systematic sustaining of these
unjustly dropped tears; our fears
the non-trusting of our peers; negative circumstances
the ones caused by those unreasonable minds
the ones channeling their apathy;
is there no averting this ongoing catastrophe?
as we together once again we take a look
looking down streets; suffering more & more defeats
all the time occupied by redundancies
and so far in the early part of this century
what else is new?
everything and nothing

while along these urban stoops and porches
the lit torches, the lighters
them igniters with their LED flashlights
they and their slightly bent companions
melting while still illuminating out of place hearts
blackened hearts in need of jumpstarts�struggling
the out & out warring while not wanting to submit to another bite
as we see it, just wouldn�t be right�this
as we watch & react to another family's plight
that 'family�s rite' to bring redress

we confess all this as we again glance
a longer quick study surveying these idle wild streets
tell us who in the hell can compete?
where the looking out at these pathways; these
fearful avenues & boulevards; more akin to bullet yards
these roadways; the ones supposedly leading to a so-called success
knowing that while treading upon them surely
it's an ongoing test�this test to get away
to escape out & away from this madness

and so it goes...it�s forward & onward
crookedly into another tomorrow
into this continuing sad song
one of a deepening oppressive sorrow
played out as we try to maintain
where no less than serious is the insanity we claim
planted outside - inside; the experience of this pain
on these idle wild streets and what they do to the brain.

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photo: Kenneth Greene

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