And in this corner;

 

It’s the hollow man &

The drunken muse

And that song

That goes like this’

 

As the rain came down

Upon the city streets & poets, sonnets

And upon all of the earth

As If Mozart had just

Written it all for you

On a Saturday night

Himself

 

 

 

[And In Parenthesis]

 

The next round begins,

And they ring the bell

 

It’s the ghost in the machine

And all the silences in-between

 

Lifetimes.

 

Lovers

And friends

And strangers

And there’s a savior on every block

Just waiting for you with

The answer in their hands

Saying;

 

I’m alone in the dark

Without the directions home

 

 

So there,

 

Do you see?

All the desolate and the

Lost, the poor, and the rich

Who still ignore them,

See the universe

In vibrant words

And they just ignore you

 

Still.

 

 

 

As you,

Wordsmith of

The angry masses

Can only scream

 

Fuck you!

 

To Thine

Own Self

 

Be True

 

Be True.

 

 

And in this corner

It’s the serpent’s coil

And the soul of the dragon,

This world a weeping failure

In thy form, and in thy sight

As they pour more champagne

Half full into the glass

 

 

 

 

And it’s still the same damn song that goes like this,

 

As they lit our cigarettes with dollar bills

As all the children starved to death

 

 

 

 

In Shitsville & Manhattan,

And in the U. S. of A. America

Where all the rains came down

A hard rain still

Falling In buckets, sonnets & poems

That changed nothing

And never will

 

 

Because no one even

Bothered to ever

Read the words or

The writing on the wall

 

To see.

___________

 

~ R.M. Engelhardt