Wednesday, September 26, 2012

No More

T.S. Eliot stands outside my front door
Selling Tracts and Leaflets funded by Las Vegas Liquor Stores
Without any regard for the schoolteacher and the whore
Singing the blues in the House of Commons on a Saturday Night

No means no in every sense of the word
It means no for a potential sunset viewing among the herd
It means no to the bastion of soliloquies of Richard the Third
It means no to George Washington Flying a Kite

I will hold onto these fantasies in my thicket of remorse
While I curse the darkness with Conor Friedersdorf
And cast my net for clarinets at fisherman's wharf
All the while, my I give up my vision for insight