Early spring they say. Well it couldn’t come early enough if you ask me. I’m so close to the edge of another day another dollar that I despairingly can’t use touch or see. Careful, a look at the clock on the wall will show you more than what time it is and you know what, that time has come… my jumping into a drift. The wind piles it all up so that it is always up to my knees making it appear that so much more has accumulated than actually has. This is the winter of my discontent. Thus spoke, to paraphrase, the 15th century Shakespeare. The sage of the stage in the round. So much the wiser; I am completely surprised that there has not been more murder suicides attributed to the bard than could have, should have? Give me Oscar Wilde; his smarmy condescending tone, so what’s a few centuries difference? Sometimes it takes that long to get it right.
This then is the shrouded evidence. There once was something here but, that is long gone. The landscape is littered with spectacular recent flame outs.
Spring shall wash the earth anew. Well if that is what it takes, it will take of a lot of rain to wash away the stench of those indiscretions. Only the crass and vulgar. The safe chic of cash flow beats. It’s the better way. The Armani 3 piece beats.
Time to go. Bring a map. It is time to go. To go down south, way down south. Figured it all out long ago but, I got it good. Write it down, try to remember it for the rest of us. Doing a Kerouac in to the land that Walt dreamt; built. Destroyed for how many? How many tonnes for your dreams? Doing how much till the bears hold a jamboree for your franchised dreams. Homogenized, sanitized; demonized for your convenience and seduction.
From far below the grates on public walkway rises the steam, smoke; stench from that putrid acrid crap. This is what they do. They fill up the air with P.O. so the population doesn’t wig out from some binary nightmare.
Every so often you have a lucid moment then the rest … the rest of the time you walk down the streets talking to yourself.
Sanitized and homogenized for your protection they tell us. This; is our city of the future. This is, the as seen on Wonderful World TV with those singing, dancing, hawking, talking waving mechanical bears. Our City of the Future. It looks so 1974 as the mechanized bear jamboree stars a new. Oh yes; you’re a superstar God-star with a painted clown face, and faded glory on the bleached white tumble down main-street
Unfeeling, unmoving, unthinking, the faces of long ago stare. The greedy, frozen, rejected and, implanted media whores that cause me to wake up in a cold sweat as though someone has been using my head as a percussion instrument in a 12 step 2 step all the way to the Waldorf of rubber rooms. Got my top hat and tails and a plate full of snails singing wall street wall street walking the halls street. It’s got that Brubeck beat and, it makes you wonder. Doing the Wonderful World Wide makes it bland and superficial. Generic; safe versions of burned out buildings, dot calm executives, the not liable shells for humanity. Life’s a beach they say but, that sand got everywhere buggered things up down button down. It’s all trickle down. Just love the voodoo that they do; making the numbers sing songs of the old Texas home. Sixth sense and two cents more thank you very much.