dystopia – Page 2 – poems 2 die for

BOX SEAT

“innocents raped
with napalm fire”
King Crimson

it is out of the box now
too big for the box
volcanic pressure

and we see it for what it is
so blunted and stunted and
yet we
still recognize
the evil

for all that they
have drained from us
it is still unmistakable

to see it for what it is
we needed to break with you
destroy
the peversity of all
that cultivated trust

and so
dissonance, discordance,
stuff so
atonal
multilayered, structure
of the labyrinth

architecture of
mind prison scryed
through a prism

the music was out there
prophetic

waiting for us
to catch up

DISGUISE

clock striking zero
clock striking thirteen

Ah, dystopia,
you are the master
and mistress
of disguise

the overlord of
pain
and scarcity

with glorious hypocrisy
you build your
dark concrete world
on such
stupendous lies

hiving us of to the
generous hallucination
that
feeds us every fiction
of unending supply

AT THE READING

the poets are gathered
in the auditorium

make the final checks
to see nothing wrong
with their uniforms

doped and dragooned
the audience
off-loaded from trucks
are marched to
their seats

essence
of the system

one attendee
one seat

was the promise decades
prior that won
the landslide election

whose benefeciaries are
here too

armour-plated limousines
as
gatekeepers of
fine standing

Ah what
a sight!

same old same old
every poem
basically the same
so
no sense
in expectation

indeed
best thing that could happen
before a line is recited
a stanza
is read

is that something
from smallest inconvenient
hitch
to extinction level event

stops everything in
its tracks

temporary reprieve
or a long long wait

a few million years
to the cockroaches that
survived
and evolved

get their act together
to run a better, more
poetic,
democratic

and yes,

human event