Dust Bowl

Freaks out on the margins...

Sleep borders the eye...

Patrols follow their functions

Never questioning the 'why'...

We are out here picking

Through the dirt...

"Let's persecute the outliers

And buy our King sometime..."

The desert heat is still beating down...

There are stockpiles of excuses,

And their dying on this vine

Like the babies dying in the womb

Of a cropper being dusted...

All the tables have retreated now...

While our locks appear more rusted...

We have made our beds...

Foreigners have fled...

Now we're left here in the gloom...

Watch the dustbowl howl

All around us now

Like we're sealing up our tomb...

Pa is waving us inside...

There's a storm on the horizon...

Freaks out on the margins...

Sleep borders the eye...

Patrols follow their functions

Never questioning the 'why'...

Our old cow just pitched forward

Last night...

It was dead before it hit the ground...

Everyone is on the menu...

I see famine in your soul!...

There's a yearning to release a truth...

And a fear of letting go...

Some strange residue has

Settled on the windows...

This microphone hangs like a

Paint brush

Dipped inside a cloud of gas...

This mare's tail...

This murk of fog

Could be the next big blast...

There's a howling from the hills...

Take a sip out of the void,

And tell us now

Just what you see!...

...Are their tranquil sights?...

Or ruinous tears

Running down the

Panty hose

Of space?...

Everyone has powers

Of observation...

We are untold Oracles

Who speak unchaste...

Say something now!....

Spell it out!...

Say it proud!...

Or batten the hatches

And wait to die...

7/10/25

Bunny Villaire