Source: International Times
Last Tuesday at around a quarter to ten
in the bowels of the subway-car-southbound
half-way to Brooklyn Bridge
I could hear your radical red-sexy words
as clear as singing glass
I waited until the twilight mammas grandpas
and freckle-assed party straphangers
slithered into the dawn
then smeared the walls
with uncensored thoughts:
Bastards! Bitches! Stiff-suited dull-eyed sycophants
sailing away on a celebrity gravy train
First they fawn at your feet
then they kick you in the groin
Wasted chances with Mickey mouse orthodoxy
Trump-a-geddon is pig ugly
no more human faces just
sad shadows with dim pouched eyes
and little children caged 24/7 in
Amerika’s tender torture-land
You were right about shopping mall pimps
Big brained whales smart yellow jacketed bees
Beelzebub Boris
War-apocalyptic Autogeddon
Property-porn daddies – magic trees
and the slow-sucking parasitic kiss of the British monarchy
Spiting truth – awakening minds
with the thunderous fuck of rebellion
Irritating those puffed up literary peacocks
in their genteel towers of
masturbatory-elitist-cultural power
A skin of light across corrupted skies
More than just a polymathic pinup
For hipster bards
You could set fire to those extremely white neo-Nazis types
with smooth- strung WORDOLOGY
Death to coca cola!
Viva Frestoniana!
I could say a hundred and one times
THANK YOU for skinning the stinking gut of society
With bullet popping pen
but instead I’ll remember your warm spirited hobgoblin giggle
and your poetic wisdom:
“May you always be turbo charged Saira. The world has need of you. H.”
Picture by Elena Caldera
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