move the plates
get them to crumble
under the waves
of ear piercing screams
erupting from the air
erupting from the spirits
residing in the crease of your spine
in the middle of the road
there lies
a broken stop sign
left there
by the kids with hockey masks
playing smashing pumpkins
leaving the concrete
crushed
and mashed

Meanwhile,

stashed in their nuclear fall out shelters
is the heart of america
left in vietnam
left for the kids to suck
in the bitter tasty
carbon copy air

the kind that scrubs under
the brim of your nose goes
the memories of their
sweet revolution
into the riddled trailer parks
of purple hearts
and cotton candy
sold by the corner store dandy
smiling behind the coffee-stained counter
his eyebrow pointing
like the Babe
worn like the penned up sin
stitched so professionally
onto the preacher's left breastpocket
they say their on it
they say it is going to come
but it as if
the gum is stuck
like the answer
adheres to the center of a
gumshoe
investigating
penetrating
the story
trying to unravel and piece
together the mystery
of all creation invasion
is near
it will not be Jesus
on high
it will
not be Gods
in chariots
with lightning bolts
burning the midnight air
it will
most
likely be a moment
of gas
a combustion
of the universe
turning its back
and retreating into
the end
which was like the beginning

absolutely unknown

11/09/2005

Posted on 11/10/2005
Copyright © 2024 Curt Allday