“Ghosts appear, and fade away…”
—Men at Work
Everything in this fucked-up world of fallen rock stars and lepers is code.
Madman or prophet, it’s all the same to those holding the purse strings. Drink your soju and think of the Homeland. Hide in the folds of the crucible — Kentucky Fried Chicken and Taco Bell, late-night Häagen-Dazs® copy-and-pasted from Master Google, little brown-eyed girl, because she was a mistake her blackmarket baby mama shit out in the back with the half-buried brown jars of kim chee.
Judas sleeper flashed to the moonlit night his only friend stood, waiting for an Army that would never come to save Him from the flash mob, because the ancient rituals would not take
Upon a heart so pure, and the spirit that guided Him back to
Father, Light that binds,
blinding the others with second-rate rock music backed by a promising jazz bassist
Tomahawk steak, why now?
time for the blueberries and the coffee,
slip into the fold, hide little girl
your beauty is no good here
For Rico, who deserves better.
Originally published at https://carolbankswebercoggie.wordpress.com on July 20, 2020.