Thursday, May 31, 2012

new poem by brigade member John Curl

American Make-Believe

Lips meet passionate lips
in the nuanced shadows
gorgeous bodies intertwined
ecstatic dance joyful tears
soulful communion
forever whispering
infinite vows devoted depths.

Flip on the lights
giant screen torn and ragged
musty stale popcorn
rancid imitation butter
rows of empty seats
spilled soda
garbage all over the floor
smells like piss.
American make-believe.

Grammas dry their tears
with candidates promises
scribbled on shredded ballots,
nominees all promising
home love integrity prosperity
bouquets of imaginary hot jobs
blueberry syrup avatars
on every cyber maple pancake
belief in change and bereavement,
a young couple on a first date
pulled over by officers
in front of the high-tech playground
for reasons unstated in the report,
find their fashion-statement purse
and plastic leather wallet confiscated
photoshopped evidence
planted in every pocket
their late-model legoland SUV hijacked
every secret digital code of decency
systematically violated
orifices stuffed with sweaty junk
and auctioned to the highest bidder
while the duly-elected mayor
restoring public order
describes the peaceful demonstration
as an organized conspiracy
of arson and looting,
but it’s only American make-believe.

In the wake of three weeks of
indiscriminate bombardment
and revenge killings
leaving the remnants of
the once-stately city
in control of stylish pimps
drugged lieutenants
spitting strawbosses
TV detectives
psychotic anchormen
corrupted weathergirls flush
with sunny gusts in the 10-day forecast
while vomit gas permeates
all the side streets
thousands wounded, unknown dead
removing children's souls
stealing fingers for souvenirs
the masked soldiers
open fire on the hospital,
the crowd scatters, hundreds trampled
she watches her friend’s leg blown off,
they stand for hours in the freezing rain
to exercise their sacred right to vote,
but just kidding,
it’s only American make-believe.

by John Curl

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