Broken Obedience

04/05 2022

And then reality
Which seems to yield to your demand
Interest pays no heed to what's owed
Nor duck nor beer
Could ever survive to hear.

The things which we remember
When the end of days are nigh
Is not the echoing laughter
Of stale beer and philosophy
Of burnt out cigarette ends

Could I predict the very words
That come next out of your mouth?
Would the sun rise aronud the earth
Or would the very word not bring it about?

As reality empties out, the golden liquid,
The now empty glass,
And the empty page
That only fills when it doesn't
And doesn't when the snow falls in summer.

An ambigious new world symphony
Of broken obedience, and hope withered
Of flowers and species once known
Now turned into triviality,
Recited at the end to every man, new and old.

And hen this world turns