Rock talk
To the concrete walls of New York City
The homeless appear as moles in the tunnels
And the hawkish CEOs of glim-gleam towers
Wait to pick them off
One brandished train tube at a time.
Rock talk
To the glistening rubber of overpriced name-brand boots
On the bitsy feet of Candy, Marsha, or Marlene
That tritz trounce the pavement
And just gliiide.
Rock talk
To the children of our tomorrow
Heads made of candied gaming goop
And ‘gimmie’ hands that can never be satiated.
Give ‘em poisonous input from all directions
And away they’ll munch.
Rock talk
Toa distant neighbor three inches away
And a squandered celebrity in the face of millions
Bringin’ fame only to the median
Of a fish amongst a school of sharks
In the hub-dub drub of underground passageways
And tribulations.
Rock talk
To myself in the sudden dark
Of an unlit underground chamber
And a nest of dreams a ramblin’
Within this projection system of a mind embraced
The roll keeps running, the film ain’t tarnished yet.
Rock talk
A picture frame of streaming continuals
And melt that rock into a thousand soupy strands
Of digestible truth.
To allow the people to reclaim their ears
And converse.
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