on the day after new years day

Big numbers in the sky
letting us know
what the ancients divide

can it be a time vortex machine
that only the rich can use
to control the temperature
and control the rain

I think so
so much control
can't be hard to find
in a moment's instance

stand atop your steed
bow down to the lady at the bar
what could have been is already forgotten
a glass of water in her hand, come confine me

brue haha lets write a song
no pen with ink
no pencil shavings
no excitement until dawn

when the duck has been passed
and i say no
it's been like this for a long time now
no bread, no wine, no beer, no turkey

just no, nothing, how have i managed
i close my eyes and they sell me something
and i buy it and throw it away
no one to give it to except the man on the train

beat up, spitting blood
a cross somewhere
hidden in the gallows
a bald headed, face mask hopeless sadist lurks

the last person i see before the rope gag
because people like me
are good for a head for trophies
but worth nothing in bed

i sleep with the light on
then off, then on
and i conclude on to be better
i can see what is hidden, not safe

math, arithmetic, words, dictionary
catholic, priest, sultan, swing
jest, best, wonton and candle
these are the words i learned today

i wrote them down in a book that was stolen
i thought it was me, but it wasn't, it was him
i think i thought about it for a while
then i forgot

on the day after new years day
we hold forth a candle to the ground
and leave it there
so the vile can type sonnets

that nobody can read.