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
Padatdatdat padatdatdat 

“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. 

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