Monday, October 4, 2010

officers of the absurd

Consider us Prometheus
our livers are sacrificed-
we gave fire to no one
we do this out of spite.
If this life is a carnival
then there must be some games, no?
Let's play at this as it comes to us,
us officers of the absurd.
Sad to think our feet grow flat,
we much prefer crooked smiles and all that.
Professional children praying chiding remarks
marked by greasy soap scum crusted burning golden hearts.
We chase rain like pen scraping pain,
we grin and scream - the untamed sane.
Lizard tongue philosophy, no song unsung for inner peace-
comfort in general discomfort is our way, you see!
Romantic our bones and love's skeletal,
yet slaves to our skin - who only knows how we feel.
Flashing lights, smoking our might, this circus world is our night-
agents of chaos - the poets who bite
and taunt the heavens, begging a smite.
Our dirty feet are medals in war,
our scars mementos that life's no bore.
Perhaps our eyes translate more
to wicked gentlemen of lore,
to gods and beasts who moan and smirk-
we all prophets in homemade thrones.

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