To Hear The Thud Of The Fallen Feather

 

the conscience pink-slip
to swan and sip the rainbows drop-shipped
the silvery transition drip-drip-drip so beguiling
the knock-knock apprehends the permeating silence
the vista from near the top of the tower shade
the non-player characters attenuate
the falling feathers echo
the thud of a fallen feather..

compartmentalised merit-ants
bend as they snap storm-tossed
watchtowers beam their atoms shrunken blesses
as the cryptocracy crystal ball-visualises
the strongest heavy-hitting lid closes ever-tighter
comfortably compressing the compressed
as all the coincidences neatly lined up in a row
are always best-dressed..

another knock-knock stills the uneven air
where a few of the chosen ones waver
all the treats all the baubles
their beautiful white noise not quite..
not quite vanquishing the within stirring within..
that purer voice dilates the murmuring
knock-knock..the last chance presents the offer
to those ones not yet so gone..

 

Their Banquet You

 

as they make their today splendid by dangling you worms for tomorrow
promises delayed eternally only fulfil such architects of sorrow
as they make their tomorrow brighter by redefining emptiness today
a fortune equips the designer vacuum and scripts the sating soliloquy..

grow a wish-list of lacquered thought-trinkets
replace and replace until extinguished
be a data node on their cashless farm
terminate heretics hiding in the reeds of the panopticon
gift yourself the given gilded status uniform
prepare their banquet you the fatted lucky charm..

cash cow vital statistics
smear your essence with colour-schemed spit
be as individual at a tattooed winking actor
be their sunbeam pounding the hamster wheel
be their wind blowing their sails
be their green beached whale..

virtue signal your vestige
bottled awareness is the message
drill for nectar in the abyss-breeder
zombie defiance of the festooned creature
measure yourself by their demographic vectors
babble the same chrome-koan as your corporate mentors..

So An Imperial Octopus Walks Into A Bar

 

effervescent loneliness bubble-wraps zipping crowds
the static shakedown only enervates the fizzling agitation
the throbbing synapses twine and strain wirelessly-strung necks
avid finger-painting beings tap-tap bids for arid immanence..

hand-me-down-dreams hermetically steal for foamy noggin goatheads
bifurcating lives fold their souls beaming lickened blackened glass
the welded hand hovers to voraciously snack on vapour trails
whilst whisking other presences to dazed simulacrum at half-mast..

so an imperial octopus walks into a bar
nothing happens..
so the imperial octopus uploads itself stealing a phone
and all experiential hell breaks loose..

treadmills power anthills on landfills of embalmed mirrors
so why take the forked road down to triffids but not up to daffodils
such hills welcome the lost and lonely formerly forlorn and forsaken
and may re-establish the awareness of a kinder and more real connection..

Another Mournful Emoji In The Pipeline

 

and a few coins drop on and around him
gifts lobbed wingless hit..hit..hit..
oftentimes with so little warning
bronze/silver pebbles skim and dash the concrete flags
dully flash then land near his hat near his feet near his sign
his eyes unevenly fluttering open sting
hypervigilance snake and stalk his sleep..

a whispery thank you for your service
and he hates himself
hates himself that once-upon-a-time he also believed
he nods and drifts
some of his comrades still take their own lives
as do enemy comrades theirs
marionettes shed crocodile tears
pass on to posterity the collection tray
self-mythologising lies silvery scythes..

their voices and their faces
their voices and their faces..
are his..
thank you for your service
his slower suicide sips him away
one drink at a time
churns and within his throat burns and returns
their voices and their faces
their voices and their faces
ripple ripped..

some of the many fallen have yet to fall
only a matter of time
another facebook rip-post in the pipeline
a link to a favourite song
a mournful emoji to a martyr
thanks you for your service..

but never speak of..or..
such careless talk must never spill
you are tough so the so-called trauma will fade
you enjoyed travel and you must have learned a useful trade
so why not think of it that way
you can reintegrate..

their voices and their faces
their voices and their faces..
where..
he feels more kinship with those who walk past him
he feels helpless pity for the earnest younger men now deceived
the reprinted glossy brochures sew ideas
in pliable minds like dough to knead
for mourners to draw bead on rosaries
and to the roar of the deafening silence
the abandoned truth abducted missing in action
cast low with replenished buy-it-now trinkets
and for a widow a pension and a polished casket reflecting..

asked to move away for safety
as an urban gardener sprays herbicide on pavement weeds
he retreats further after a threat from a charlatan not to violate his patch
or run the risk of getting his face profoundly keyed
so he stumbles to the alleyway to the side of the store
and in the alcove for the bins he recedes and weeps..