IN THE PAINFOREST
Apathy
is the shame
of our generation.
It
is the time
to act,
before the curtain
closes.
Unchain the Mountains
whisper in their ears
to cut and run.
Spring the clouds
the white the gray the black
tell them to scamper and fast.
Pardon the forests
suggest they uproot
and skedaddle, leave.
Discharge the fields,
the hills
the valleys
pay their cab fare and
send them on their way.
Absolve the waters,
open the faucets,
everywhere
drain it,
all of it,
drain it
dry.
Wind-up
the fliers, the crawlers,
the prancers, the hoppers,
the jumpers, the leapers,
the dancers, the runners
the swimmers,
give 'em a push
watch 'em
escape,
scoot,
vamoose.
Tell the piper to bring the children
play his magic flute,
its time to blow
this Popsicle stand
time to mission
to somewhere else.
Deflate it all
don't bother packing
dash, trot, speed walk
exit
stage left
or right.
Abandon
what you can't grab.
Throw a lit match
on the way out.
Let it all implode in
its own gasses
This book
Has reached
its last chapter,
its last page,
its final word .
When the stench
of rotting flesh
subsides
give me a holler.
then,
we will return.
Armand Hamouth |
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