given the times we live in

given the times we live in
I will not be attending any ill-conceived construction sites
nor will I demand an accounting for overdue invitations
is this not the moment of reduced capabilities?
am I to be forever excluded from my own fantastic clock?
glass cutters and box cutters litter the gutters
yet we pay little attention to the ruminating street sweepers
I can’t abide by the overblown obstructions
fried spices and chemical compounds with which all meat is encrusted
the flavour of perennial disappointment weighs heavily on the tongue.

given the times we live in
I guess I will forgo all my dreams of finding solace
from an amorphous, amoral, a-bombed birthstone
where in god’s name will we find that furnace fuel?
the carrier pigeons all chucked their cargo
and flew in unison into the jet engines of the twenty-first century
welcome to total personality failure,
welcome to your catastrophic psychological event.

when will the dinner bell chime for china?
when will it’s potential as a world-class drunk be realized?
the magic that has been force-fed to us is real
but it has lost it’s ability to inspire even tacit approval
in the halls of Olympus and the malls of America
all the animals that have ever hung in the windows of our homes
and all the priests of precision and just-in-time physical fulfillment
have returned to the sprawling factory of the heartland
to be properly executed and repackaged for unconscious consumption.

paris, I cannot include you in my sphere of lunacy
I will protect you by avoiding you, I will avoid you by Thursday
this is the picture as I conceive it: there is no sky, there are no planes
there is nothing but a tower of granite fallen on hard times
happy birthday, baby, I’m glad you could make it
but you’d better not buy that flat screen television set
the world is round, so why fight it?
we’re sailing off the edge of something else entirely

well now, am I allowed to say ‘bomb’ any more?
as in: “I would like to get my hands on a BOMB?”
in this third-party, third-world delicatessen
of sixty-watt light bulbs and dusty cold cement
dripping water booby trap, midnight express line
there are eight items or fewer left in your limited life

given the times we live in
I’d like to settle down soon in a quiet suburban burglary
suspended like a counter on the celestial abacus
a wire through our hearts, one for you, one for me
how many chocolates can you consume in one sitting?
how many suspicious pet suicides will the community tolerate?
a broken series of clandestine intrusions
will reveal itself only through the absence of discomfort
and that is precisely the time to introduce the wolf to the chickens

given the times we live in
you can be sure that soon a black caravan will be seen
driving slowly through the Brandenburg gates
a jeep loaded with digital-age weaponry
will bounce along a back road, on its way to paradise
general jackson’s crackerjack joystick
will be maneuvered in such a way as to defy all observation
beyond the reach of the paparazzi, the eyes of mankind,
with a guarantee that all homes outside the delivery area
will be subject to a surcharge of global proportions.

and that is why, given the times we live in,
you will gladly subject yourself to a public inquiry
a thorough scrutiny of all cretinous blasphemy,
personal and financial,
sexual, psychotic and historical
let’s start by opening that intriguing bank account
was the interest collected reported to the collective?
were cheque stubs filed systematically or sarcastically?
if you must fix your hair, please do it in the bathroom
where the lighting is better for the combs and cameras.