Poshlust

Jumping through iron-clad ceiling
striving to be king of the jungle
roaring at the top of your lungs
echoes to a red misty river
clutch those ashen elbows to prepare for the imminent fall
from grace
stones afoot on long shadowless banks
give thanks
for the wind for it carries away the stench of thieves
and crooks and the decay
of morality in our day.
Since the end of tomorrow may come today
get down on all fours
and pray
for the beginning to resend anew
refresh the page and restart the stew
mix new ingredients in the primordial soup
and see what brew will come through.
A windowless pain to
shine through the pane of failed
adventures
you, sought to end the
shame that never even came but
was thought up by, you.
Stir up the brain mix the sugar
and the cane but leave out the
chains of the plantation-nation
reborn on the buffaloes horn the
red and violent view, the re-twisted braids
the natives got to stay and you
begin to see a new day
when ships that sailed
sent back to the crew
for Revolutions whose plague
was far too vague to even
make it to the stage
not even Caliban can make due.
In the sky in your eyes
there's more interesting colors than blue
like molten reds from the tears
that are shed like the snakes
who takes and then waits
until all that left if old skin.
Now where do we begin?