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A civilised death

 

A civilised death

(For Bob Dylan)

 

It’s too quiet to be this sad she said the sell off of life between lead & copper, the coppas came with a lacerating blow to the mind, sunglasses & batons… Lynch arrived, circumflexed & rose tall like a seig heil like constructivist futurist graphics… never took the road, never took to the road either though one line at a time he chipped his jackhammer & lifted bitumen above is head & plants began to grow… the mind replaced by the brain has killed the human spirit, what Kev Carmody calls the sterility of human objectivity… & so even the shaman knew not the magic, the stir, those spectres of light who walk the night & day… I’d rather not say, she sad, it’s all too sad… the concrete, the material, the visceral emasculated by the virtual… the synthetic replacing the dream… no wonder no one can scream… traditions dead as if 2 million years never happened… but then the harmonica played… & sounded a chime of freedom…

 

 

Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

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