Electric contusions blowing my mind;
Swirling universes, slowly I find
Sawdust spirits questioning time.
Subtle signals swimming in mercury
Bouncing my neurons into finality.
Soul rhythms beat moonbeam harmonics,
pulsing through brain shadows into optical nerves,
Splashing my heart valves. Swish! Thump! My heightened intensity
increases spark nodes of unreality in my intellectual cohesion.
Strands of DNA convulse into sentient beings.
Finally, I am revived to sanguine extinction.
Chained like a mad man to the earth’s crust, a slave to be bought and sold.
I beg and borrow crumbs of truth and crusts of light but from empty bags of human debris, I receive starvation and rape, lies, genocide and electrocution.
Unwanted I recycle trash upon my head, then rewire…dust off and steal dirt from the streets of pity. Wearing sick sackcloth and broken teeth, I call for sleep but the thief, sleeping on cold stone floors steals even my pride, leaving me the stench of his bad breath. I exist to be brainwashed in smoke and mirrors, unjust laws and faux patriotism; I curse the power brokers and wealthy pluralcrats as I continue to control only my TV and ice cubes. Bat’s blood continues to subvert the truth with dark room whispers seeking drunken paths to freedom and numbing consciousness to the reality of economic slavery. Number 666o112X ME & U2... are statistic ghosts and will be remembered as such when rivers run blood and accounting is nigh.
Uncovering the corpse of my mind I find I’ve been sold to the highest bidder
and must serve eggplant in the halls of freedom with only a cracked bell spoon and a nut shaker.
I cry silently as flies crawl into baby’s eyes; small bellies bloating as crusty lips drink sewer water. I scream at the eye of the needle as camels are deflated. I, consumer, like a frog, waiting for bugs to crawl down
from other dimensions, readily understand the theory of weary.
I pray for popcorn but am delivered sweat-towels and beaten with razorblades. My eyes cry for visions of carrots.
Teach me how to accept my brused-blundering malcontent which I find loathsome and dank.

I seek to dance with gypsies in covered wagons
Ride winged horses with elves and dragons;
Live in bliss like the king of dreams...and
be treated as more than a discounted being.

Richard Lynn Livesay