Always A Great Crash

When will the markets fall?
The ghosts of the Palatine know
this.
The futile obsolescence is
faith.
The pillaged and raped tomorrow
being the rich in this hour
with their orange groves.
The ghosts of the Palatine know
this
and yet they build more skyscrapers
in New York City
where the water is rising
and will rise before the migration
to space is possible
and the fiends of eternity will
perish.

Dream A Cream

You live the supreme dream.

The burrito supreme?

No, burrito scream?

Dream, just dream.

I spilled my burrito cream.

Spilled my tuna cream taco.

I bet you did, girlfriend.

5,000 Years From This

When our skin becomes
secondary

When our skin becomes
a backdrop of stars
to a world not in light

Layered over
bones and shells
and mountains
our ancestors once scaled

Then we advance to a
civilization past any
we’ve ever been

But we’re 5,000 years
from there

Will we make it
before we kill ourselves
over the color of our skin
or the fiendism of
our economics . . .

before we destroy our earth

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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