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Monthly Archives: April 2016

come again, back to the forefront
crawl, slither, clamber if you must

we’re not done yet
you will not find art here
this changes nothing

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This city is bigger than
The languor of the serious soldiers
Who march wistfully within
From factory to foundation; day and night

This city doesn’t revolt
For the sake of artlessly revolting
It doesn’t simply disgust
For the sake of disgusting

The silhouette of the charming skyline
Stretches far and wide
Laugh, grin, roar and howl
Admire every spectacle
Cherish every sight

Think alone
Dream alone
Smoke alone

Neatly mowed lawn/Waterfall
Stone palaces/Tribes
Honking/Birds tweeting
Lunch/Hunting
Street musicians/Jungle

Truth wherever truth
Picture wherever picture
Freedom wherever freedom
Journey, journey, I like making jokes

Billy J. Rowe is portrayed on a plastic, childish wrapper
Lionized pole to pole; he’s a cogent, and worshipped brainchild
Like a waveless sea, a windless storm, a silent kidnapper;
Two unwise lovers, not separated, yet unreconciled

Nothing surprises the “with-it‘s” bull, well-travelled reliance;
Not the rosy-cheeked tipplers stepping over homeless torsos
Nor the wide-eyed, simple shoppers, drugged into compliance
Nor the avarice of the true, dictatorial nonpros

He’s an anesthetized, walking commercial for nicotine
An opulent vacuum, optional in their sterile lives
Blinded by his overconfidence; a beclouded smokescreen;
Folklore bestowed on little angels, they must eat like he strives

And Rowe casually knows, how to wholly evaporate
In the critical, sizzling, Hollywood studio spotlights
Rowe, crucified, plastered on billboards, Alexander the Great
Let the professionals suppress your singular appetites

Billy J. Rowe
A posterboy
A sensation
In shopping malls
Across America

Medicated moralist
Sedated environmentalist
American girl

I text her
“How are you?”
How are you
How

She texts me back
My phone chimes in my purse
“Oh; Things are going well.

I’m in a less unharmonious place;
Somewhere balanced and secure
And it all makes sense here.”

These barefaced excuses
Are wearing wickedly thin.

Some truths are still subjective.
Some things are forever lost.

Follow me and I will show you
How to become the sort of person
You really want to be

Polished wood shone dully
In the pallid, tired light
Of the rusty chandelier above
It, never-ending, spiraling up,
Twirled around
Mounted, ascended

A skittish, uneasy toddler
Noticed the staircase
And bit his fingernails
Walked back
And then forward again
As if to check if he had imagined
The new thing

The thin and bony boy
Inspected
The stairwell
Discreet
Careful

When I close my eyes

I can see an unbroken, perfect world
And there’s nothing in it
No towering, grey superstructures there
No imposing mansions

And no beautiful black metal bands too
No innocent children
And life forms that are neither plants nor beasts
So inapproachable

…But I prefer to keep my eyes open

Unfettered; loose, still at large
Elegant and exclusive
Darlings are your arrows; and you can’t help but to discharge
Intelligent, elusive; yet unwelcome, intrusive

Let the tension build
Let that string snap forward
Between the branches
Let the arrow fly untroubled