17 Prime by Carole Kenyon

The look of lives lived at street level
Are black, blue, red and grey
Store mannequins on display,
Gaze out windows, entranced by
Multitudes making their way,
Scratch off lottery tickets, kindling for a rainy day,
Painted smiles fade, under harsh sun beatings
Strobe lights flash, sirens wail,
Today, there will be no white rabbit dash
Only rat tales told,
Rodents flee, trapped for their skins,
Pulled from a top hat kicking and pleading,
With python officials intent on feeding,
Hollow rhetoric filled
Full of curdled cream meaning.

The last bus has gone back to the garage
Hitch hiker flags down,
The next available psychotic
In search of the planet, Megalo-5-Erotic,
Cast off, bound gagged and tied,
In penance to death,
By tedium tried, convicted,
Found mundane,
Sentenced for the next 40 years,
Hard labor, suffer and strive,
Scratch through layer upon layer,
Prayer raised on hate, built on lies,
Plasters, then papers over,
Portals of hope,
Eons of treason,
The way, which leads us to freedom.

Carole Rossi Kenyon

Originally Posted by Carole Rossi Kenyon on February 6, 2012 at 4:00 p.m. at the DYSTENIUM Online Community, Poem © Carole Rossi Kenyon 2012

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