……………………
…………………..
on the tattered street by the sidewalks of diversity
lies bare and broken the remnants of a civilization’s dream
discarded and no longer significant to the progress of the modern era.
the streets of silence howl with night, they feel the brittle fingers of the bite
………………………..of the lost entrails of the fading sun
they feel that comet on the run
like no longer dying
……………….but no longer fun.
…………….
……………………..The bright illuminated headlights of the planets sun
………………………………………….shines above the city like a darkened plum
…………………….the skins of the city dirty come
………………….for a breadth of pleasure to fill their sum
……………….but the dreams of the mortals are not soon over run
………….for they savored bitter, sweetness of the silent one.
……………..
…………………..broken and shattered you can hear them plea
……………….salvage the remnants or they’ll never see.
…………………..
……………………..and back on the street the wheels still roar
…………….as the fire of the sky above does burn
………………………..so the wheel of the killer still does turn
…………..as the remnant on the street feels the rubber pound
……so the motor and the earth felt the burning ground.
………………….
………………………….bells ring souls sing
……..and the remnant and the sky didn’t hear a sound
…………………..they were happy for the silence
……………………………………in a dream
……………………………………….they found.
………….
…………….
————————————————
fj llorente – Texas Max King – circa 1996
THE CIRCUS . . . . . . . . . AND THE ZOO 
Leave a Reply