303 – Curtain

The gloomy sky keeps crying,

A million beads of molten grief
Slowly pummel out the life
From a tired and rusty
Golden clockwork heart.

Stilt walking Buddhas
With obsidian black eyes,
Blindly stumble thru the crowd.
Neon rainbows bleeding
From their silent, open mouths.

Mumbled mantras
Scream drunken obscenities
At the whiskey breathing demons
In their nightmares.

No one listens.

A lonely shining figure
Watches from a nearby corner.
Its sad eyes observing closely
This slow decaying circus
From behind cracked mirrorshades.

In a world where talk is cheap
And tweets are even cheaper,
Who gives a fuck about wisdom
And the no longer fashionable quality
Of compassion?

The wet pavement sighs deeply
As the tired angel packs its dented halo,
Sprouts electric guitar wings,
And steps outside reality
With one last, deep, tri-tone twang.

• • •

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