Color Scheming

Teeth grinding
Deep breathing
Still spinning
Free wheeling

The slow grind of empires dying
Creates a patriotic drone
That overcomes life’s
Primary imperatives
How much dumber to we have to be
Before we notice how much
The map has changed
And with it me
?
But you
Dismiss the clues
Content yourself with violence and boobs
(Not that boobs aren’t nice)
Hope your wolf tickets
Can be cashed in
For red carpet status
Or side kick fame
Regardless of how the map has changed
Sometimes
Cowboy antics
Despite being a way
And a truth
Are no life
No one folds the father’s map
Like a lonesome stranger
And some goddamned good science fiction

Nail biting
Pharaoh fighting
Mary hailing
Color scheming
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Echoes:
Collage and Words folded by Jay "Scheming" Larsen