Sunday, April 1, 2012

The King is Dead!

And right and left, left and right,

upon two ragged and separating shoes,

the news is carried through the dying light.

The king is dead! The king is dead!

The word is muttered. It is said.

The word is heard but, like a ball

thrown into the wallless void beyond,

there is no customary response and call

proclaiming the sovereignty of the son.

With the click and the kick of Anarchy's gun

the lid slams shut upon the eye

and sends the regal orb a'rolling

down the pyramid's widening walls.

As in a pinball slot, or a ball gone bowling,

it wends its way upon a splitting fissure until finally it


into the void

scattering pins and people in the sunken sun.

And I ponder now the point of a pyramid

who's very reason for being is pointless.

A multitude of headless chickens react and race,

like contracting atoms,

about the yard to cluck and call.

"The sky is falling! The sky is falling!"

No, not really.

But the universe, it is true,

at least as far as I can tell,

is shrinking,

and no longer extends beyond the finite boundaries

of a mess of mortal organs

wrapped in human skin.

The king is dead and we are


like atoms,

by a trickster god.

You and I become me and you.

And hark!

Who goes there in the night?

One is black and one is white...

but only in the other's eyes.

And who is wrong and who is right?

Who can judge now that our ruler's lost

and Juliet would be a son

and not a daughter?

We've tossed the truth out with the water

and got each other's reasons crossed,

like the hairy legs of a woman

trapped inside the body of a man.

The king is dead!

The word filters through our window

from the senseless central boulevard.

The word is spoken.

It is barked and bleated 'round our table

as our father's words are now taken as a token

to spend on candy and cheap diversions

before each and every frustrated one of us

separates for bed.

Dissenting thoughts now fill the heads of man and wife.

We chant our mantras beneath closed coffin lids

before each of us, coming to his and her own conclusion,

rolls away from the empty center of the marriage bed,

and satisfied,

we turn out the light.

And continue rolling,

and continue rolling,

and roll away into the expanding night...

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