she was like a walking floral arrangement
marinated in forced politeness
glazed with jealousy and sprinkled with pride
but there was the voice in her jar, the cry
madness or God? a baby or a cat in heat?
she asked but nobody knew
all those puny politicians she met
fake jesuses and fake madonnas
poorly acting bad lovers and bad clowns
breath odor apollos under the unbathed sun...
she was pickled in her baby time
stamped with madonna's face for eternal shame
her cemented heart did not remember itself
'slap me, make me laugh, i provoke, i don't beg'
became its epitaph engraved on a city sidewalk
by her tears she once shed
before she became a walking howl of a desert
with a whip in her claws and a stare of a chef
her mind covered with thick layers of caramel
she kept the wind still with sugar icing
and hiding from the sun under the layers of fondant
futility became her way
vanity became her safety goggles
as she walked with less spring and more and more weight
when new chefs pop up everywhere like dandelion flowers
would it be mad to wear a lemon yellow edible hat?
she didn't ask
only the wind would know the answer to that
and to how all her thoughts became so vain
and those tears were not
one mississippi ...a bitter star is falling down... two mississippi ...I argued with the devil and i won... three mississippi ...and when trees don't anymore let the violins speak to me... kaboom! familiarity with falsehood is not a stairway to heaven your head may look as fine as gold but your feet are made of clay nothing but dust under the power of the Rock that fills the earth how will you not fall? you are but a murder of crows meticulously glued into a grandiose idol by the promise of fame within the will-less bundles of muscles in the network of shame blinded by the unpromised luxury heights inflamed by the gluey years of resentment of rejected lovers beggars of love, however misunderstood and their idols of age defiance and lust downgraded by the glowing rectangles with their images of envy betrayed by the happily hand-clapping crowds of fake jesuses and fake madonnas by neurotic parents of monkeys evolving into crafty profit maker...
