Dead Ghost Blues

You can kill a man but you can't kill an idea.

- Medgar Evers

Mickey Mouse on the Morning show
your Superman paralyzed and under the snows
think about how you're gonna feel next year when you're
pinned like a butterfly beneath a wheel

All your Christmas Angels now less than the forgotten hairs that fall from dead dogs
Hospitals the new Discos of pain
a Nation of fatigued flatliners, national guard salesmen and featherweight fathers
where consumerism is the new Front

This is the new frontier of white and deadly bad medicine
not much Hope per capita
slave labor and a sisyphus income
the American Embassy basketball court of Iraq

I warned your Red ears, I reached out to your pale white heart
You didn't hear the blues in my pixeless fire
you thought you could strip the paint off of Nature
and still walk upright
and now your zones are frowned upon by the maps weaved
through the stars

and as wooden wheels turned into Rubber
you found a technology that was faster than the six legged postal agent
but you spoke less, had nothing to say and you said it too loudly
and though your red, black and white stitching has changed 
your message is still the same
and nothing is born free under your nose

Your Ancient Witchcraft
your redundant words and tombs
all your dethroned songs couldn't save you
from the dead birds dying your way
in the direction of your cold houses

Everything good in the world is a circle
everything  skeptical is as a  skeleton  lying in a box and quietly weightless to a  frame
what will you do
when you can no longer harness time?

you will do like your ancestors from across the waters

you will give up the ghost

and

choke

on the light

you chose to close

off from Others.... .*