Requisite exquisite requiem

I may know part of the score
but certainly not the whole story,
I ask you to dictate the terms
and you give me Jackanory,
knees,
back,
bent,
beckoning,
has there ever been such a fine reckoning?
You sing a song of deceit
not of the sword,
you wear a look of defeat and discord
in accordance with the slack jawed
but would that I could tell you
of all that does transpire
of things held tight against the night
and things thrown on the fire.

Talking Trash

Contextualized and contemporised,
and quick as a flash
right before your very eyes,
proclaiming what was once desired
no cape or phone box required,
a rapid change
to be deranged,
no super hero uniform
agape! no shape describes this form
again the shame absorbs the scorn.
You break these components down,
I deduce,
we reduce,
the crap to scrap
and throw it underground,
born of blood and spectacle,
the skeptical receptacle.

Free/dumb

Act one,scene one
is the force of will
applied with a gun
Liberate us from liberators
Save us
from the labors of saviours that enslave us
Deliver us from deliverance
deferring towards the difference
diffident and indifferent
but still somewhat beligerent

Buddy

Paimon

Momentarily suspends incredulity,
exercising excessive frugality,
taken aback
by the lack of some slack
in my inflexible gullibility,
plausible and laudable
undeniably a bauble,
distorted curvature
distending normally benign features
leering at the fear of being wrecked.
The disconnect.

Potemkin

Chews on the news like a hard addiction
right on cue
Issues aschewed,
channels disputing fact or fiction
Figuratively but furtively inverted
solapsist,
redactively interpretive redactist,
extensions to the bucket list,
the short loved life of the realist

Phantom limb

I retire,
perspiring,
respiring,
after aspiring,
it transpires,
to obtaining,
sunlight waning,
no great or fated hearts desire
But moonlight
lights the rooms,
where curtains held tight
to hold back the night
also invite the gloom,
to partially illuminate,
a mind,
not unkind,
to consequences designate

Retro introspective

Oh Jenny Jenny of the Hart
Why is it you are so smart
Did the east end do it's part?
With a cockney accent
and an apple cart?

Hearts and hand carts

So what if we dreamt
and what we dreamt was real
Inscribed by lines
dictates and mind states
everything we touch
and taste and feel
But livid,right?
In vivid light
No sun sets on me tonight
I'm huddled befuddled
in pre dawn groups
I throng among the hooded troops
Thinking comes as no surprise
with tenderist memories
chocolate eyes

The ruse

There are so many people
that simply are not me,
who I was,
and who I am,
and who I wish to be.
So are you who you think you are?
Or the face reflected
in the mirror behind the bar?
Taken aback with face slack
caught by yourself in repose,
wearing,
paper bag tearing,
a look that no one knows.