Tuesday, January 11, 2011

They Say It's The End

They Say it’s The End1/11/11

They say it’s the end
Of fashions and trends
Of couples and cowards
Seeking revenge

They say it’s the end
Of games and clichés
Of policies forgotten
And Saturday parades

Of senators dead-set
On shouting without rest
Spitting up opinions
While trying to digest

Everyone’s intentions
Simon’s last expense
Willful suspensions
Just beyond the fence

They say it’s the end
For lovers at a loss
Intruders breaking bread
Unaware of the cost

Speaking without meaning
Shaking from the frost
Forsaking all those healing
On account of the exhaust

Parasites and insects
Protestors singing songs
Assessing every derelict
Nod-ding-ding along

They say it’s the end
Considering the man
Pacing and back and forth
Humoring the damned

His wife keeps on repeating
Their best laid plans
How time is fleeting
But he doesn’t understand

Each and every second
Paradise expands
But nobody expected
Needles in the sand

They say it’s the end
Of secondary frequencies
Good and proper manners
And common decency

Expressionless faces
Who until only recently
Believed in something standard

A constant flow


Ready to explode

Like machinery

Everybody knows

About the change in scenery

Reaping what they sow

More than frequently

They say it’s the end
Panic in the streets
Seven deadly sins
Saviors meet and greet

Regretful men and women
Nervous on their knees
Curious as to who’ll send them
Underground like seeds

Ready for cultivation
Lawyers sign the deed
Unaware of how inflation
Somehow tends to breed

They say it’s the end
Of diamond-ring engagements
And saving your ticket stub
From the Sunday evening cage match

Of artistic expression
And surprise exchanges
Between lesser known characters
Left sighing on the pages

Of dialogue remembered
From forgotten ages
Replaced by the numbers
In competitive wages

They say it’s the end
For pseudo-intellectuals
Running for their lives
On account of all the fools

Ripping out their hair
Claiming that their souls
Aren’t necessarily immortal
But rather full of holes

They say it’s the end
Eleven Eleven
And never again
Mistakes from the heavens

No more explanations
Everyone’s defendin’
Lapses in their judgement
The parts that need most mended

But I remain the same
Immune to these endeavors
Refraining from the blame
Conventional are my methods

1 comment:

My Idea of Fun said...

Beautiful as always. yer my boy!