combatzen

"COMBAT ZEN"

Tension sizzles
down high-wire streets
creating nightmare tableaus
that flicker through-
the Kinescope of moving traffic.

Distorted masks
of fear, apathy,
and desperation,
crudely rendered
by an idiot hand.

At the close of just another
brutal whirlwind day-
the sun impales itself
against needle towers,
bleeding purple shadows
down onto the Death-march battalions,
hurrying to the familiar frustration
of glowing spider-web traffic-jams;
that radiate out for miles
into dreary, identical suburbs.

Before darkness
conquers urban streets,
and the eternal costume party
surfaces once again.
When all the City's
Bastard children appear;

We appear
in the uniforms
of our tribes,
and circle each other
in the same tired dance
of US
and THEM.

But on one still corner,
a drunks song echoes
across windows
locked against the night.

He has found his peace
like the addict,
like the madman,
like me:

"Not by fighting the whirlwind,
but by becoming the whirlwind."