Talking Heads
Pontificating
Postulating
Pouncing on words
Ricochets of sound
Haze and stench of pompous
Pointless
Pounding syllables
Silly fools
Droning on and on like—the baffled bumblebees (no more trees)
The buzzing is just a low-key noise to be
Drowned out by Mad Men selling snake oil and penis enhancement
These chattering heads with plastic hair
No escape from the high def pixel priesthood or maybe
It’s just a POW camp with tall stockades of bullshit
My brain sits in the horizontal shadows watching—waiting
Bouncing the ball against the wall—impatiently patient
They have to build that damn bridge sooner or later
Box of light illuminates blank faces—in stasis
Ingratiating our spoon fed nation with delicious lies
Puppetry—this
Proudly perched peacock
Sins of the faithless paraded into the spaces between consumptive embraces
Shackled below the maelstrom of stocks falling—frogs for the Pharaoh
And now the weather
Panic at the disco—Play it again Sam
Love songs for my capitalist daydreamer—or maybe a socialist demon weaver
As the heretics hang crucified to money trees and the monotone heads turn away—
Pontius wash your hands
Where has Authenticity gone at this time of night?
Curfew at 9 pm so into the bushes hides King Rhetoric the Reasonable
We laugh at the rude dance of the Jester—Alas poor Verity I knew him well!
Revolutions ring a decaying bell
Their tolling tells me nothing
For the pundits peel away
The soft flesh of meaning
Leaving bones of bitterness
Bodies piled high
Atlas groans
No one can hear him (press mute)
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