No More Heroes

Assimilation is the key word.
Acceptable projection at the proper moment in the most effective way –
to disarm…

These intentions are rotten panic
coiled in the desperate tension of false hope,
in the streets and at the dinner table.

It smells of salt drowning in fear –
the old illusion of an excited baboon.

Make a weapon of your eyes
to fend off intruders,
to give them a window to your self-inflicted weakness –
to be broken open like a ripe womb,
to spill forth your secret,
coveted ocean.

Yet, never does that door open.
Only the faint whisper of acknowledgement from the watching eyes –
and the unspoken tie that binds us all.

Salvation comes only in my dreams, she says –
and I laugh,
for I know she has always been dreaming.

Face hidden,
I cry in the distance,
for I know she will never wake up.
She will die in her sleep.
So long it’s been since she drowned herself in her river of tears –
since she gave in,
submitting to her fear.

She looks to me to break free,
but we all walk with our heads down.

The streets are lecherous desires
singing tunes of frantic masturbation and misery.
Jesus didn’t share his secret clearly enough,
as God didn’t sing his love for all to hear.
Can it be so?
Not likely.

What is selfishness?

What drive is it
that pulls us into such a void of loneliness
and fills us with the lust to rise and destroy everything –
for what?

Is it love –
the sick light cast on our creepy carnival streets,
cancerous with desperately hungry,
pathetic beasts
seeking the will of martyrs to feed on –
to postpone/avoid their doom;

the spinning heads;
the multiple faced clowns
reaching secretly into your pockets
with slippery fingers and mucous-glazed eyes;
the careless garbage and disease interlaced with the breeze;

the endless vacant,
staring faces,
riddled with misery and torment;

the hateful stares of strangers cast in a silent room –
the silence;

is it love?
Is this what drives us?



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