Off Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Claws on the whiskey glass
Spartacus rests in a garden of scorpions
Heads of parrots like feathered war
Beneath the aplomb hills of skulls
We are connected by a con
Lit little angel by the bush
Can we change anything?

Jazz in the lions chase
Kerouac cries like a Viet Nam refugee
Canaanites sacrifice legions
Pigs squeal like biological war
Chemicals and nephilim

All utopia depression
Limbic words
Genocide with amplifiers
We can't live on spiders
Darling turn politics off
I see the moon
I see the stars
I smell the grass
Good has won
Turn the crap off