Mar 05 2015

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Asphalt Riot

asphalt riot 2015







In the asphalt riots of a frozen day, the lost heads bob up and down as they nod their greetings and agreements without saying a word.

Here in a frozen room I sit teaching silently as students draw and design  without speaking or whispering or smiling, entrenched in solemn thoughts.

It is an isolated day of sun and cold but unlike the dead and lost drawings  of white hands and white plaster heads in a whirlwind of nothing.

Pretense is a whispered word when nothing is said or thought or action taken,  except in a remote state of mind, where whispers are thoughts and troubled voices.

Hatred abounds in petty minds chastising the innocent and guilty, the tardy and exceedingly late, until the hate subsides and the death is mourned.

I cannot relate to hate.The confiscation of the mind and heart are too great a loss with everything else, to him who had nothing, and now has even less.”

In the faith of fools repenting, the sacred vaults of secrets hide the true lives of saints and popes, priests and pedophiles, and the encrypted life of Christ.

Way below the catacombs, within the darkest dark breed the evil jinn and demons, harpies of hate, jealousy and greed that fester in the souls of humanity.

Well within the Universe the sacred souls cry out to the lost and lonely and hopeless, the poverty stricken and homeless, the dispossessed and dying.

There is so little love for the dispossessed in this world of me and mine, charity fraud, political crimes, bankers and corporate CEOs , robber barons, thieves and whores.

Somewhere in the mindless maze of misery lies a glimmer of hope like a ray of sunlight through a barred cell window after the eclipse of death.

We grasp at the mystical moonbeam if resurrection during our passionate pleas for sanity, as screams of victims of snipers and serial killers fall on deaf ears.

Resting in the remotest part of me, are words flashing before my eyes and I hear them shouting in my ears until they fade into moments of memories.

Self described poets and artists fall by the wayside on lost highways hitchhiking with a song and sack , poems and pictures in their pack as records of wandering lives.

Avarice seethes in the steam of hot coffee warming the bones on a subzero day.  The Arctic Vortex is causing 30 million people to freeze today.

Hard looks by hard people within the confines of hard  choices and mindless habits underlie their frowns and wrinkles and memories of hard lives.

Alphabet soup in a hard boiled plane in subtext of parenthesis in translations of ancient texts the parboiled brain under stress of everything sleeps in 4th Dimension.

The waterfall of memories wash over the mind until all ends. Regrets are nothing  more than thoughts to forget, pain unfelt, suffering unsuffered, losses regained.

The noise of crowds rush through the air as winds of conversations, meaningless and forgotten in the white snow of frozen minds and endless time.

L.A. Steel



Permanent link to this article: https://lasteelshow.org/main/?p=9598



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