In one night of intellectual conversations and debauchery,
Through the elegance of the violin
The cry of honesty rapped out
In words and rhymes
Wanting to be heard
Through the heigtened and enlightened cyphers.
They sung and croned
hummed and skat when nothing more could be said.
The buttoned shirts and petticoats straggled into the room of spiked heels and red lips.
Then the steel skat
“And we all fall down”
But we stayed down
Steady and calm.
I thought of San Bernardino
I thought of Paris
I thought of my children
I thought of Vonnegut.
Meditation is a practice to be conscious,
But what good is it when it brings you to sleep through the madness
With madmen carrying polymer in their palms.
Wake the fuck up!
Pardon my French
But son won’t wake up with a please or a may.
…and the violin kept singing its weeping song
Beautiful and elegant
Standing in the center of empty cans and lost garments
And splatters of crimson stains
Softly strumming a lullaby
Leaving the mess behind them.