Thursday, June 27, 2013

the sores on the heels of the Youth.

the sores on the heels of the Youth.

the dust and heat of the desert road
confers precious little but aggravation to
the sores on the heels of the Youth,
born of comforts lost, raised in promises
now forlorn in the wisps of naiveté,

who come through these parts,
treading the steps, the giant prints of
dinosaurs and mammoths, the tails of comets,
of those larger-than conquistadors and
crusaders, torrents of blood in their wake.

the glorious bells and duplicitous whispers
of imperialists clamoring in the foggy distance,
the moist air unseen but through the scored
lens of the Tongue and clasp of the Eye.
parched to the brain, scraping on, but why.

oh but why, the guttural cry of the human youth,
living as the animal, the once-denied truth now
magnificently exploited as caste, the law of
animal demarcated through the post-darwinian imprint:
the sores on the heels of the Youth.

voices strained to dissolution, words lost in the
hollow, abandoned even by the law of gravity
living as the weightless gargantuan unable to
feed voraciously on the organs of righteous opinion
starving instead on the paltry maxim: Capital is Mass.

"Those with the darkest fears became the most powerful."


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