The City's Lost Souls
Too many lost souls mentally starving
inside dim cubicles because of a
corporation's exploitation; minds raw,
and broken. Hurling their tired bodies
through the broken hours of the dreary
workday they plead for the arrival of the
pomegranate dusk... yearning for a link
to unreality... their eyes hollow, their
thoughts floating listlessly above a grimy
authenticity that burns in the aftermath
of inane absurdities. They are always
hoping, but torn promises of the
corporations create nightmares. Their
days and nights now
ashen... Disappointments propelled by
the aftereffects of their enslavement,
affect their daily lives. Too many are
broken because their working dreams
have been destroyed: They drink Gin
and Tonics at noon in tawdry bars in
some city's back street, to overcome
their sorrows. Cigarette ashes and
alcohol odors scorch their remaining
beliefs in fairness and opportunities in a
reasonable 'all can succeed society'.
Chained to the scarlet tide of the
corporation's purgatory promises, they
blink listlessly at garish neon nights
stridently echoing desperation in the
subways leading to the endlessness of
their woes. The hordes of these
subjugated masses, stream back and
forth like pathetic drunken Lemmings.
They, in their fits of desolation, float in
and out of stale, boring afternoon
meetings, and tedious, meaningless and
dull jobs, longing for a double scotch at
noon to carry them through the
remaining miserable hours of the rest of
their fruitless, dull, and monotonous,
workday.
Spectral Absurdity
Psychotropic thumb screws
torture random minds
crushing essence of being
in bone breaking daylight
burning boredom to the bone
seared in the flames of elemental suffocation
psychic trespass of solitude and soul
pelagic wisdom adrift
on subliminal swirling seas
Rancorous entropy casts
shards of reason
beyond the horizon
ghostly doppelgangers collide
splattering ectoplasmic energy
in static slow motion
volatile carnival carniceria of
hanging cadavers ribbed red raw
swinging mortified from rusty
old hooks
Phosphorescent neon blinks
coded semaphores through penumbral haze
motionless slabs of charcoal streaked sky
casts no shadow on days demise
acrostic mosaic dissolves on the ebbing tide
spectral absurdity
horrid and helpless
trapped in natures
brutal burly grasp
Catatonic death rattle
under leaden clouds
violent whiplash
from cosmic sway
graceless humanity
wheezing last breath
I catch the jagged pieces
in the palm of my hand
and watch it melt
in a tiny pool
of sweat
Ominously
invisible
unreprievable
human
mess
