Towers of Ivory
Subdued by the paregoric dream-land,
Your sleepy eyes stare into the nowhere
Flashing on the screen by buttoned demand
And cosmic transmission's continued care.
They'll feed you full of the barbiturates—
Hypnotic images made inculcate—
Just to keep you still and inscouciant…
Perhaps collectiv'ly agglutinant.
God bless them and their commercial glory—
Clearing the streets of all the miscreants—
So they could build towers of ivory.
Someday, you'll be packaged and maybe canned
In the aluminum chamber's stale air,
Controlled by the factory's firm command—
Which compresses you to the market square.
There, in process, you may capitulate,
Your core contained as pulp concentrate.
Saw the top off, keep yourself compliant
When you lose you lid, scalping salient.
You are a piece of the inventory,
A stock sold en masse, completely constant,
So they could build towers of ivory.
Logorrhea stimulates the sweat gland,
Dripping glistens of advertised affairs.
The meaning's lost words—dilute, disband
Against doped up, stuttering speaking flares.
The desultory shotgun actuates,
Bullets flying as if to artuate
You, so staggered, totally reliant
In proxy wars that seem irrelevant
To the greater portions of history.
Agitated verbs buzz ev'ry instant,
So they could build towers of ivory.
White washed, white washed—empty color, so bland—
Swallowing shadows in their twilit snare,
An inoffensively scurrilous brand
Stretching across the encompassing bare.
Nothingness lays; appears ablaqueate
In false promise's place to congregate:
A temple of the blank, exsciccant
And peeling thoughts, scratching exfoliant.
From the belly of this purgatory,
They paint by numbers—brushes incessant—
So they could build towers of ivory.
In susurration, viral-like expand,
The pandemic whisper plots, prodding there,
[...] Read more
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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