my bones ache
I’m infected
with ghosts
the kind that grind
a man to dust
this confinement
withers me
desiccated notes
and ancient rituals
crowd my nights
with recollection
I shield my eyes
from the righteous
dread vibrations
of straw witnesses
and trial by radiation
the committee gave me
the full inquisition
but my numbers were good
so I got a pat on the back
and sent on my way
they couldn’t tell
I’d cooked the books
to an old family recipe
where the left hand don’t know
who the right hand is screwing
I’m not dishonest
I’m just being realistic
everybody does it
and only a fool would starve
when there’s gravy to be had
I’m not a greedy man
I don’t take enough
to get myself noticed
I simply skim the cream
on its way to the top
the light from distant suns
shines on when they are gone
but when our day is done
will our lights shine on?
shall the lights of men
ever be seen again?
or will others of our kind
say that we were blind?
steal me a blanket
and let me lay down
there’s no grace in heaven
none that I’ve found
twelve strange disciples
from holier ground
sold me some garbage
and an antique crown
I’m lord of this shithole
and king of the clowns
thought is the most courageous crime
but you must go beyond the static of the tribe
and their blandishments of mediocrity
you best conduct your business in ciphers
or they will know you ain’t from round here
because they don’t take to outsiders
they ain’t intimidated by reason
and they’re offended by science
they have a wizard to guide them
all facts are false and reality is negotiable
in his machiavellian flea circus
he says jump and they ask how high?
they do as they’re told
but they don’t know why
.
