Pulse Electric

dust of seven ages
squeezed like fresh daisies
with centrifugal gears
itching as scratched platitudes
in sore eyes
sordid sight, first rhyme I
digest tonight

and fade one degree deeper
into a feeling of comfort
two shades off the beaten path
of numb tingling and wizened orbit

a leaf, fluttering, freefall
enter the wishing well of dandelion portal

now ripped through the great divide
neuron cabinet whips out archaic relics and recipes

stir up divergent opinions in the pot
while vultures and ghouls point shadowy fingers

if you learn to grow through disillusion
the jeweled net of contentment stretches out wider
during novel periods of arcane virtue

as all the perching peacocks of inverted righteousness
slip from precarious angles of moral hypocrisy

crumbling into the heap of virtuous stones
they’ve been tossing over the spit-stained ledge

tear ducts barren
cut with shattered glass
sands of cultural hours
turned over, spilling tide
on tip of tongue
dots trace blood
taste of change and copper sizzle