Caravans and Collectives

Wake up walking dead,
awakening to an inner reflection
to whomever remains coherent, receptive

responsibly unresponsive, it’s dead
brains left on the sidewalk
with the sky in my head
Alienated and infrared
protected during ritual with very little said
pouring potions fused with speed
we leave our blessings unsaid
in debt to appease former allies
drawn to bare knees
Openly caged, now
consequently free
after reprogramming on the ‘factory reset’
is furthermore inspected
the right in mind stay connected
through Caravans and Collectives
while the mad are tamed
in each meticulous objective

Sounding system failure rings repetitive
as metallic veins are grasped, tied off and injected
infectiously wide spread–
“She killed it, the lines dead”
and this one motherfucker said it all goes to her head
audaciously inept we are in dept to you
yet the Hierarchy in communion
somehow lies respected
while the Healers are condemned for use
the story ends whichever road we choose
careless to feigning grace
a heightened beauty is
brilliantly reflected

Light emanations retract
although the authenticity lacks
listless beyond basic function
within world’s alive yet unsung
captivated however corrupt
“Who wrote this stuff?”
authoritative in manner, though
she’s probably using drugs
“Sunshine it’s time to wake up”
to something far less disgusting
healed beyond rustic wings
finally the silence sings
It’s done, let it be

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