L.A. is a universe

of constellations in city lights

and I,

a bullet dropped

onto the motherboard

from a dirty

uncircumcised dick

that misfired accidentally

once upon

a drunken holiday night.


Everyone hates

to be caged

but crib-conditioned from birth

lambs suckle bottled milk

from tattooed arms

carrying reminders of sacred past scares.


Tenement dwellers

move through space

afraid of neighbors

without references,

living in the face

of hurled rocks

sworn curses

and depth charges

against inter city time quakes.


Knurled fingers

point out a fat bastard


“A Confederacy of Dunces”

that curse the multitudes

living in the idiocrasy

kick started by jealous anger

too serve a justification of stupidity.


Shake the feeble hands of

a princess

who will crawl through shit

for a fur coat

getting rug burns

for walk on roles

call the deadbeats sitting on spinners


absent for the birth

by another

for another seventeen-year-old

soon to be a ghetto rat dropout.


Judge the thinkers,

burn the writers

condemn the artisans


one and all

their end will be for not

on the scale of the grandiose


Two thousand foot falls

in their shoes

my hand releases its grip

rather than pull

another surviving shot

to this lunacy.


Of those hated in success

and loved in death

the bottom feeders


by the uninformed

the civilization of “we the monkeys”

the finders of the fifth digit

walkers in the upright

sojourn towards discovery

and creation.


Just before impact

I say, “So long,”

realizing there are truths

coming into learning

and I go to the beyond saying

“We will soon discover things

that will shake the base

of our found-nations.”


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