City of Stone in the Fire
Grief is given yet titillation earned on coat racks is kind of a trite list,
Art evolves when visualization turns to protest like The Binding of Isaac,
Sour to the stomach as carminatives unsettle a fart that spawned for the comedy,
A journey to the center of artistic endeavors embarked upon as an odyssey,
A man sees that couples fight and for sakes they’re fined as crooks or kids,
Just as these couplets rhyme and make your rhymes look like shit,
Every American enjoys his dreams as large as his oven,
Of course I fear an angel whose wings can carve through the tungsten.
Staying surprised to not see the inept crown wheeze if left up on the shelf,
Care void of reason since the windswept ground speaks for itself,
Years ago at Yale, and back then domesticating was ominous,
The only thing Shakespeare had to worry for was the Black Death decimating his audience,
Mother gave us Earth, so maybe we should ask the Father, “Ain’t this the peace we like?”
He also never had to wonder if radioactive waters tainted his beef supply.
A helm belies the truth, and behind him the lessons could still be cared for in mourning,
He never had to worry if the horizon’s complexion would still be fair by morning,
Scorched to cinders only to rebuild it in town or a future near the soul’s separation,
I bet he also never wondered whether the trees wilted from drought or nuclear proliferation,
The skillet is far too cold now, so well why throw snow if heat’s here?
To be totally honest and truthful pal Hell I don’t know either.
A bourgeois attempt to tap and dance using the choir’s visors,
They try to aim high like the Black and Tans shooting at firefighters,
Nevertheless intention is averted as tactical arson is distorting the curved view,
You’ll be crying Mary with the National Guardsmen enforcing a curfew,
Barter in trade today but such a pity we’re owed a bone for the nitre,
The fields of grace are torched ablaze as the city of stone is thrown in the fire.