Senseless

Knocked out of the blue, out of the catatonic state of slumber like the
tearing of fabric from peaceful places into shreds of pieces of dismantled
ideas or conceptions of what was at war with what is or what will be
because there is no safety in this storm of cacophony clamoring to get
out of my brain onto my page as if the would be ink could explode out
to capture the emotions that rage under the pens strokes scrapping grooves
into the paper that comes apart like so many tatters from a raggedy man
in the hostile wind.
Dazed then confused like the seventies, so overrated so over used, a cliched
remark commentary so crazy so blase might as well speak another language
that no one understands nor wishes to hear since admitting to the absurdity
that fills our lives like swimming with sharks fearing that it will be the
tuna that will do us in.
Sleepless nights without anywhere to lie down, nothing softer than rocky
roads, unmappable tarmac wandering all hairy scary like the cracks across
the concrete playgrounds in the building sprawls of the construction jungles
that crowd through the wastes of modern civilizations devoid of the living
walking among the dead going forth to ambition-less minions shuffling
along the paths amidst the standing stones of a forgotten future leaving
the promises of the past, I am the relic of my own mysterious sense of
dramatic irony.