BASQUIAT’S STORMTROOPER
Poem By: Dr. Billy Alsbrooks
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Kneeling to the wisdom of Great Jones bourbon
I learn the secrets of the world
Rumbling with Basquiat’s stormtrooper
The missing hours sing under the bed
Typewriters the police that govern this realm
Who’s brave enough to have unruly visions?
Just prisoners of politics succumbing to more lies
While her seductive ways enslave their ambitions
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Drowning in retail space, I gasp for air
Who can swim the vast oceans of capitalism?
Christmas trees murdered with grace
Yellow tape strangling their yuletide glory
Stranded under the wigs of books
Who dare own their own thoughts?
Lazy humans on forbidden planets
Attempting to forsake all that lives
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New blood bleeding from guitar strings
Their Supreme soles the Nikes of music
Chanting serenading the hearts of union square
Yet the lukewarm still make excuses
Prisms bending life through rays of color
As the chosen line up for haircuts
Dealers giving junkies green handshakes
Buying the American dream with drug money
