The Incubators Of Purgatory Poem by Raj Dronamraju

Masked memes of purgatory
Strident grammar true and thick
Masked fellowship in the woodpile burning
Denizens of blurred attributes are moving out of time from turmoil

Proud owners of the ancient goblet
The clarion calls for raising the derelict
Focus on that kind of strange peevishness
Overturning the neglect of prior generations

Rage is premature, on time, delayed
The incubator reprocesses it like canned air in a conference room

An uptick in the national price of swill
Maybe he knows where the good things are hidden
Knows much more than those who practice the religion of "how do I get there"
Feeling superior in a Buick Skylark
Looking sanguine while recycling banished guidebooks
Becoming part of the flow of hostile intercourse