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morning_coffee

there is this fear
that haunts me.  it comes over me
each morning  sipping coffee from 220 feet; like
a spastic eyelid trying to focus
on  the world in its
naked truth.   I wanting to scope it out for what it is;
with what remains of  my analytical sense before I see
myself just a mirror image of those
misguided fools down below.
 
they walk aimlessly drinking in the
words falling from above.  they obliviously
move to the cadence of a city on chaos.  and another sip, sucking up
time enough for my hand to stop shaking and 
rest in the mist of this habitual insanity.   an insane
 
myriad of subjective and objective phrases
falling into in the shadows
of trees and park benches where the homeless
gather them up, carting them off,
waiting twilight when with words they  make their bed
laying their head to dream on their empty promises – and those 
without hope left stagger to the gutters
baptizing their worthlessness with piss one last time
before sentencing  them to the underground.
 
few will notice the usefulness
of letters set to type, completing that last section 
of yesterday’s crossword or firing up a heated discussion
at Tuesday night bridge with the boys;  all in all not a bad lot
 for breathing in 80 years of this city, no not bad  (I should see
such a day).    the class of twitter
however, has little time  to ingest
any value from truth or lie in paper, instant
news only needs bandwith and buyer
of time.  and only god
 
knows , the condition, that condition,
 fragmented  into un-human humanity,
unaware of the fallout all around them.    as we (I) don’t really ever change,
can’t change  – and we just keep puking
out parables from skyscrapers, skulling our superiority over all 
standbyers helpless as they fall suicidily to
their death on the city below.    and I sip
my cup of watereddown coffee
scented like a dirty New York morning –
gutless and cold.
 
 
bkmackenzie 
copyrighted 2009
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