the first born of the dead prophet takes a stab at prediction

Simeon-the-prophet-Jesus-and-Mary

The First Born of the Dead Prophet Takes a Stab at Prediction

The cradle
of civilization.

 

The resurrection
of the
goon squad.

 

The name
list passed
on from
hand to
hand.

 

Singing fish
slap-happy
dolphins.

 

Elephant dreams
spread like
peanut butter
on
white bread.

 

Cellophane smiles
apple-red lips
eyes like
waxed pebbles,
the kind
of woman
you run
from place
to place
with performing
biopsies on
children.

 

The soothsayer
who makes
it right
again the
drained corpse
of a
legionnaire.

 

The tapestry
of the
ju-ju man,
hunkered down
in a
highrise
with his
prayer beads.

 

The song
that makes
us all
stand up
& sing
together,
some sort
of anthem.

 

The tsunami
of mediocrity
that floods
the low
lands of
hope.

 

The excellence
of a
night wind
in the
Rockies the
tiny men
from deep
space reporting
in &
recommending
invasion.

 

Gigabytes of
false hope
as the
end draws
near.

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