ME AND MY INTERLOCUTORS
BY STEVE WARDRIP
MARCHING, MARCHING TO ROMAVILLE,
WITH THE EAGLE AND THE SWORD.
TEARING LOTTERY TICKETS UP ON THE WAY,
TO COMMUNISM, TALISMANS AND HOODOO BUMPUS.
STACKED LAYERS OF SHOULD HAVE, WOULD HAVE, COULD HAVE…
TAKE YOUR RAG AND FLY THAT THING HIGH,
GIVE ME A TARGET TO AIM BY,
ROLL YOUR ROCK, STROKE YOUR JOCK,
SLAP YOUR SEASERPENT AND HIJACK A MIDGET PLANE,
WEAR IT COMFORTABLY ON YOUR LEG,
WALK AROUND TOWN PREACHING INTOLERANCE AND KNEELING
PEEING IN THE PIE THAT WAS THE APPLE OF YOUR EYE,
NOW YOU HAVE TO SIT AND CRY BECAUSE YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND,
HOLLOW VICTORIES HAVE NO MERIT, YOU DIE ALONE AND EMPTY,
PISSED OFF AT THE WORLD AND YOURSELF,
THE WORLD RIDS ITSELF OF YOU.
WE LIKE IT NOW THAT YOU ARE GONE.
PEACE IS OURS AT LAST,
MOMENTS BEFORE THE FIRST BURSTS OF PURE WAVES OF LOVE,
OVERWHELMING VICTORIES IN HEAVEN,
REJOICING OF ANGELS, TRUMPETS SOUNDING GLOWINGLY,
THE SWEET NECTAR OF THE GODS FLOWS FREELY,
THERE IS PEACE IN THE VALLEY FOR US.
THE THING WE USED TO CALL EVIL, NOW, HAS NO NAME.
IT’S GONE.
ME AND MY INTERLOCUTORS VENTURE FREELY IN LOVE.
