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
