Here is an atmosphere closing in,
Here is our synchronicity,
Here is a night of Queer as Funk,
Here is a global revolution.
Short crops and jean shorts,
Left hands and unimosity.
Tag: atmosphere
I Am Angry (day 2459)
I am angry at the Americans
For making the world one big party
And leaving all their spending
Polluting our fields of plenty
I am angry at the Chinese
For building these resorts
For walking down the streets
Disrespecting different cultures
I am angry at Canada
For lying to with a smile
Rolling out the red carpet
Though the green flag flies high
I am angry at the Petrols
For neglecting human health
For letting all these diesel fuels
Spilling into atmosphere
I am angry at the Youth
For not taking hold the change
For not demanding to know better
Though they stand up for pop cult
I am angry at the Voices
Speaking so strongly inside
Obviously in rhythmic lies
I am angry at the Religious
Who say their faithful
Are more right and devout
Who align their one clear path
Though they preach unanimous love
And acceptance for all those left
I am angry at Myself
For not knowing how to stand
Though I see clearly my knees
That rest here in the shade
Crowd Sourcing (day 1004)
An eager atmosphere pushed the Devil to yell
He barked at the moon like he was rattling hell!
And out from the works came scuttling all
To exercise weeping; watch the blood fall
Leveraging our fathers (our mothers) with time
In a forceful toil-workers rhyme
Which consumed a brackishly concocted design
Of feathers and chicken bones and half frozen lime
We beat reason into apathetic institutions
Who spoiled magical innocence and intuitions.
We followed the Devil with dazzling premonitions
And were left alone; a severe lack of solutions
But whispers died slowly as the fog rolled away
Laughter could be heard above those who’d been slay
All in a night which reeked of delay
And the Devil returned home carrying his lay
Winter Here (day 589)
Winter isn’t cold here
It’s like Sunday in front of the fire
Expensive liquor and
Love floating all around
Sounds breaking apart the mahogany
Dripping down the walls
And lifting up the edges
Of the well polished atmosphere
I’ve given in to the long coats
The ones with fur lining
My grandfather handed down
Brought from old Russia
In solid chests on the backs of horses
I’ve slumbered around with
Expensive cocktails with bow ties
Suspenders and alchemy dripping down the walls
A time of surreal magic
Pushing out between the breasts
Of well dressed ladies
I’ll take two for the road sir
Tuck them under my outstretched coattails
And push them down with essence
Tugging tightly at my cufflinks
Trail of broken hearts and glitter
Follows me out the back door into the evening air
In My Little Bubble (day 418)
Float on you crazy thoughts
Into the endless days of tomorrows choices
That come and go like bottles of wine
Emptied to quickly
Still to cheap to care
The haze that glows around me
Dim lights pulsating at the walls
Voices that murmur around their tables
Clinking glasses and small talk
Laughs that carry no meaning
Easy music going down smooth
Into the surreal atmosphere
Huddling in a little circle
In my little bubble