Live Mi

Live Mi

The cannibals have eaten

All of the good choices

Beseech the gladhanders

Upon the beach of glamour

One shoe too large

One sock too small

Selling all the lamest fashion

At the brand new unnecessary shopping mall

Overpaying spoilt youth to be rude

To the people who need the work

the punishment rarely meets a crime

the shine is off

poor dustbin grins

the Tower is crumbling

and the mad scramble for bread

boxers boxing in boxers with martial art

run from the wind and rain

I’m feeling something here

some may call it pain

some may call it a name

cash in for Amazonian food

vitamin supplement wholly unstable days

the exodus is ending

and Moses needs new footwear

the lack of profit is the only reason

anyone seems to care

dance in circles for squares

Babylonian mathematics in cuneiform

tell us more than our theoretical physics

of the denomination of damnation

Steven Wilson is God

and none seem to know his name

the refuse refuse categorization

the only rebels left that say what they mean

are the Rogue Ones

glean to dream the truth of the lies

and lines behind the time on the clocks

by the nickel and dime sublime

cordially invited to the nevermore

by the raven and his scarlet whore

My loudest voice is the smallest of diatribe

in a cancerous coffin corner office

asbestos memos and stale sparkling waters

pale intentions and cracking alabaster

skin I am in is fading sand and nanodiamond

rains on Neptune that fall into darkness

the tears on my face signify my place

amongst the wreckage of heart and home

I do not condone

I only wish to roam


to stop carrying the banners of the ways

you can spell out disdain

corduroy Lucifer crooning on the screen

now I understand ‘whisper to a scream’

the disbelief of the unbelievers craves to know

what will Taylor be wearing at the next fallen snow

even the men on the mountain

carry cameras and document the mundane

why doesn’t reality show us the real

like a Kardashian taking a shit

or telling the world what they really feel

it’s a fuck-all rubber band ball for a kitten

my frontal lobe is leaking out of my ears

driven by petty drivel and mindless fears

my end is near, oh dear

steer clear

because in here, apparently

you’ll float 2

The last time we sank

North Korea’s buying fishing boats

to destroy all the destroyers

spellbound and down

full on my precocious insolence

I may be dying and may be deaf

but I can still see I am not dumb

enough, yet

I lose a little more

with each passing day

weary of the fucking games

we play

the masques that people wear

and having to listen to everything

that everyone has to say

I think I want to pull on some silence…..

image courtesy of Shelley Fabares and

16 thoughts on “Live Mi

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