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Poem By: Billy Alsbrooks 


Do we now sit at the table of war?

Then let us pick up our fancy dinner knives 

Let us slash the moonlit night with the wings of American love

As we kiss each other’s imperfections in ways that make the walls uneasy

Our white table cloths shall run with blood

The dinner guests will never see the betrayal coming 

Their flat earth minds know not how to cross the Atlantic

But the ghost of Erikson will guide us there


Why can’t we just swim in comic books that make us all invisible 

That would airdrop the ancient secrets right into our muskets

Our little mouths begging to eat

Our broken souls longing to feed 

But the tables are empty of the answers that would calm our stomachs  


The sheep have become lazy grazing the pastures of imitation 

Now there’s no bread left on the gallery shelves 

We’ve all become cartoons in a metaverse world 

These Social landlords demanding their rent in data

For data is the liquor in the throats of capitalism 

Bitcoin drunks drown their Wall Street pallets

While Instagram and Apple suspend Kanye for ranting

Cancel Culture seeks more truth to cancel 

So that metro can cover the real news of Skete’s tattoo 

Are there any journalists left with testicles?

Or do you only have balls with five thousand dollar dinners?


Ukrainian blood waters the grass 

While we watch the Russian godfather without his shirt on

Siberian bombs seek their lovers

But there’s a long line to borrow from the Chinese 

Gasoline prices soaring like hot air balloons 

And now we can’t even share our Netflix passwords

The world is collapsing upon itself

But the drones from Amazon will ship for free 

Starbuck junkies shop at Whole Foods

As the bald king of Seattle orbits the world 

These greedy politicians go naked to their dinner parties 

While we still have to distance and wear these stupid Covid masks 


Caesar has invited us to watch the gladiators

As Vegas takes bets on Elon vs. Putin

Who needs bubble gum in a world that can’t chew truth?

How can we sing, if we can’t even see?

Are there not any windows in the blind skull of howl city?

My lines the bricks that pave the road to enlightenment 

They shall bring us to the door of mirrors

There we’ll imagine ourselves in ways that makes the lies more believable


Do we now sit at the table of war?

Then let’s pick up our silver forks 

Let us lick our plates with symbolic conversation 

Who can tell the most egregious lies to the diary no one will ever read?

But remember, the pages of our lives will betray us

We shall gossip until our tongues are tainted forever

But to be safe, let’s write in angelic code so the demons can’t find us

If they ever sense that we fear them, they will come court us with dreams   

I’ve seen the hidden rooms they live in

I’ve heard the regrets that they whisper to Oprah

Inflation is the garlic that scares these vampires 

These Hollywood graveyards are full of freaks 


Nothing matters beyond the stairs of lovemaking 

Yet one wrong word can suck the life out of intimacy 

Sour still swirls in the mouth of the bitten

But the band of labor thieves won’t pay enough 

So like Jimmy Hoffa,

we scream at the top of our union teamster lungs