Gods, Generals and Janitors from General Electric

Posted by Erik Moshe on Saturday, April 14, 2012 Under: Poetry



Gods, Generals and Janitors from General Electric

 

He whose face is carved in the sycamore halls
Whose name rings true as civil leader and cathedral sweeper
Is the true uniter of manscape
A voice that’s boldfaced in visceral green, holographic lettering
A new times Babylonian text template with coda synthetic paragraph sensors
Getting enough office space to build an empire of Jenga towers
Giving citizens a fresh breath of choleric air
in contrast to the history book smell of old
so that vice roys with their spiked squeegees can get their morning car washes in
- serve black coffee to the cancer riddled settlers, susceptible to debt detox

The cure being whatever the stimulus plant sheds for the month
shogun era scavengers tango through the tar pits
with half canine cannibal hybrids, the dark Prius of hounds
led by the most fashionable Ares on the jungle market
read the words on my ring fingers;

GOD
COUNTRY
INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM
MISCONDUCT IN THE WAR ZONE

but you can’t connect the duality of nature
to the duality of man, or convict the simultaneous wounds he inflicts
the judge would shrug the shoulders of higher consciousness
as simulacra’s of lava lamps dance in the tyrant’s eyes
When enemies fall… there are the most cinematic blood droplets…
y
ou should see them scrimmage in the winter

with built in surveillance systems for the battle of Gettysburg
lesser demons brimming with venom over a group of sewer technicians
sentenced to the death penalty
for not keeping the corporatocracy’s sandlot clean

Nowadays I keep these white, asparagus-like fingers covering the sun’s reaching rays
sitting with Julius Caesar on separate steeds
the sky a black marble flat screen projection
newly installed solar panels
gleaming like centurion shields

poised like a beetle’s armor
in the fortitudinous mildew

the middleclass joust with pots, pans and voting ballots
Papa Sam’s own barbarian mop bucket dispensers
whether it’s WD-40 or World War 40
the abandoned battlefields of eternity require periodic maintenance

Got a problem with our company protocol?
Go work for Yahweh directly

but keep in mind the consequences if you should be let go...

In : Poetry 



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