Discovering the nun on the radio
Still bleeding, but only in black ink
Desert highways from a distant youth
Debated truths & now fallen out of sync
Wiping fingerprints from the Dial
Our subscription long ago expired
Shifting hemlines & the fate of love
Reception’s attenuated; must’ve crossed wires
Haven’t seen a service station in hours
Sweating profusely with not a cloud in the sky
She presses the accelerator & coyly winks
I’m dizzy & both our throats are terribly dry
Pierced & tattooed
In the lower latitudes
Listening to Bikini Kill
Avoiding life’s incessant shrill
Drinking from our enemy’s skull
Filled to the brim, yeah its full
Testify; they’re coming for our throats
Burn the boats
You give up your voice
When you choose to take their hand
You sacrifice your honor
When you go joining their faceless band
You deem yourself unremarkable
Once they take away your vote
No longer choosing for yourself
Their drudging spirit grabs your throat
The hoard directs you how to think
& can make you recite all sorts of things
You deserve your time in Hell
When you hand them your own strings
Junky little notes
Throwaway lines on the postmodern stage
Cultural fragmentation in empty streets
Truth whittled away on an evaporating page
The disillusionment of an appropriated life
While the world’s on fire; downright ablaze
The American Dream sold off to the lowest bidder
Feeling dissociative in these recent raucous days
Our dishonest & unaccountable government
Are trying to sell you their uninspired vision
Trying to sway your vote by gripping your throat
But their cockamamy pleas will be met with only derision
Incomplete rants are broken thoughts
Antique shutters dangle in the breeze
Vaccinated by expired truth serums
Eye twitches; our hostess is ill at ease
Yet remaining upright on the page
Our fate wrapped in a trickster’s charm
Subtle strokes without remorse
Only dried ink leaves us disarmed
Subverting all the easy answers
Sacred is our fundamental right to choose
However your speculations drift
Cut the devil’s throat and wrap him in Winter’s hues
You have all your beautiful decorations
Your Louis bag & Burberry coat
Flaunting everything which couldn’t be
Knowing how to get my bloody throat
You’ll find your adornments gone someday
They’ll suddenly be missing as you wake
Feeling distraught with nothing left
You’ll be lonely without any Real Estate
You’ll have no glamour & no identity
Find a need to fold back within yourself
No one will care, so no reason to hide
You’ll no longer be living on the top shelf
Downcast eyes revealing all exposed lies
Once the object of unparalleled lust
Age without refinement turns ugly
Life’s not so pretty, fallen from the upper crust
Captain Q 