I am the headline pushed from the page,
below the middle-fold I go, I slink away,
today's news is tomorrows gone
the culture's amnesia settles in; now settle down
whilst we settle and saddle up
Where did all the blue skies go,
poison is the wind that blows
from the north, south, and east...
More famine than feast of late,
and hate runs rampant o'er the ramparts,
I hear the ram's horn, a reveille,
a first call to true wake-up
Make me wanna holler
the way they do my life...
You and I are no longer
self-evident
Justice -
her eyes wide-open
her blindness cured
discerns shapes
dark and mercurial
polygons
"All the unseen news that's fit we don't print."
Are things really getting better, like the newspaper said,
what else is new my friend, besides what I read...
cc: Chagall, Marvin
Alphabet City 