by grimbeau

Pressing buttons is fraught
With potential disaster
Self-destructive tendencies
Disregard consequences
Plunging headlong in the void
Swans dive slow in fetid lakes

Factors beyond dawn patrol
sense ebbs while love grows fragile
been there saw the t-shirt
savaged on the twilight wire
Scented sanguine tatters drip
On stony porous ground:
the first cut was the daftest
—how come we never learn
from our fascination
with cut & paste alibis?

Dubious communiques
arrive from far off lightships
coaxing weak sun jars pulsate
diligence smells of sawdust
meanwhile next door erudite
yes men jostle for number
one in the copycat charts
the truth fears for its life
in fugitive Siberia