Descriptive expression,
Wholesale killing on ice,
Call it what you will
You'll never know what it means to me.
Art is interpretive,
Life is the expression of the figures from canvas.
The muse transfers both figures and expression
Into her words; reading by her own format.
Lycos machine keeps on booting its users,
See that lost highway?
It isn't going anywhere.
Are you?
Time to see things at face value,
Not the prophets who gaze into slow-moving atoms
For their "get rich quick" schemes
[Dionne's Psychic friends; you know who you are]
Burn away the wick with guardian programming.
Their minds are being washed to smithereens.
There goes another spiteful year,
Killing time plays from the executive sound system
Have we no better morals anymore?
