I FEEL THE CRUSH OF FOOLS

I feel the crush of fools –

Claptrap jingo-man at the door

Wrapped up, canned and packaged

I know the cheap sugar high

The flame-tipped donut dunk –

All iced and swirled and sappy

I know the fat-laden drag

Sizzle mound chunk munch,

Blocked and draped and lumbered

I see a mad world driven

By money-comfort reptile bloods

With coffers lush and brimming

I hear the bloat and blather

Info-communication-Techno show –

Those boring, bickered strains

I smell the smacking funk and stuff –

Ghouls that guard progressive ways,

Are fragranced, leached and stagnant

I taste dull fruits from strangers’ hands –

Spoilage/life preventative, additive

Homogenized dyed-out glop

I cry, and cry, for infants’ souls

For cold-stiff-nipple baby wants

Alone, apart; apart, insane

I feel the crush of fools

A knowing void, the black abyss

Odd doings on the silent hush.

May 6, 1992

Santa Fe, NM