Howeverwhichway The Wind Blows

Jan 8, 2010, 6:32 PM |

Another poem from late 2009. Slightly more structured.

Howeverwhichway the Wind Blows

The telltale signs lie in the detail,
not the outward smile, not the fashioned hair,
but the twitch of the ring finger when
she sways and spins.

No amount of bureaucracy can contain
those intricacies. Undecipherable anthills
over which the whole world runs,
giant corporations and sickly politics.

We are the leviathan, we are the ones.
Trample the sweet grass and lemon dew
and crush those brave blackhearts who dare
to stand and fight for grains of dead flesh.

How could it be any worse than this?
It's simple. Condensed blood
sweet to the lips of flux, and its master,
the dark caped figure with the bald sphere.

The wheel turns.
A better wheel turns.
And when there is reprieve --
What reprieve?

The survivors cling to their mountaintops,
the lost loves are swallowed by the axes.
Extra mint, extra honey, extra quick.

Bring on sophisciated technology
for the advancement
and betterment
of society

Howeverwhichway our streamlining, purifying and freshly industralised air pushes you.