Now

There was a time
when people read.

Now the shelves are full of
for-idiot help-books,
management, and health books.

Where have we left our poetry?
On 2 half-assed racks in the back corner.
Its looks somewhat like hell'n winter,
infernos and frosts, with little n between.

See,
we like mixing our fossil records,
on turntables with pistol grips.
Scratch that, flip the script.
Repeat: loop to infinity.

Most only skim pictures,
and even then, to them,
words are only symbols:
and unrepresentative of empirical reality.

Science may define gravity,
but seems to lack answers
as to its origin-
therein lies the stanza:
divinely inspired.

On a higher plane,
unafraid of being different,
flying the coop.
I survived the shark pool.

Who's tryna shoot up
a magic 8ball?

Draw.

Stop wasting away on lines of nonsense.
Read the autobiographies
of timeless,
prophets-
ghandi,
jesus, martin,
mohammed,malcolm,
buddha, scholars of truth:
Agents of the common-conscious.

Study hard,and then study harder,
because some tests aren't worth failing.

One finds freedom in the wild,
not off next exits,
or misdirected searches,
but persistent trial.
And error.

Acquitted on video evidence:
play it back,
I am not turning tricks on your eyes,
I'm just fucking with your mind.

Come over in the night.

Walk through fire,
you'll sleep well
on beds of coal.
Your heart is convulsing,
better-check your pulse.

May these words
put it all on the line.
We are all intertwined,
and equally strainuous.

Thank you for your time.