Parked Cars and Dying Jetplanes

Hallelujah! The earth’s spin has brought earth’s king
with words of plasticene and candy crème, can you dig it?
We could all sit down or even gather others around and
give a cheer for the truth we all fear, do you know it?
Snowflakes bombard us with their pure white wisdom
speaking clarity ‘til they hit our toilet trees, do you see it?

As the sidewalk moved you along and the drunkard sentenced you a song
did you have the valves to lift the angel from the gutter
or did you wonder why a seraphim was so dirty here in New Jersey?

Hallelujah! Your Sunday portfolio sweater has love stains
saving you the glares and blood shot stares, can’t you peel it?
Dancing anger bells trip the tide of the queen’s thin head
until we collapse and eat to enter relapse, can’t you stop it?
Sweethearts and streethearts drain into the city’s cleansing Aves
wearing their hearts on their sleeves, just to tease, can’t you bleed it?

Passing the plastic nativity I feel the coming hail of death.
Walking on the launch pad roofs I see the mental health
that a deathstlye, of superficial being can only bring.

Breathe in the dark brick cardiac arrest, something’s amiss the medics will attest.
Placed your soul into your jeans pocket, I know, your eyes show the empty space.
Wax and wane as you open your wallet, to buy and eat everyone’s pagan misery.
We got your parked cars and your dying jetplanes, parked cars and dying jetplanes

- by Ian Mcphail