David Swanson

Caps Lock

It is then Cool Objectivity’s slick try

To alibi, to lie

Snaking, faking its telling

Selling the cult ephemera

Another of box of pandoras

Hustling fake facts

Bold as brass on the attack

Finding everything has its price

Identity as vice

Red-eyed elders watch and throb and rob

Xself looking for a mob

No looking back

Yet stubborn truth revealing lies always lack

Days dragging, drumming on

The hesitant salon dissolving, succumbing

Becoming deep mistakes, tragedy’s hardcore

Banging on midnight’s door

A supreme fiction inhabits the

nothing of a no one

No rapture won; souls stunned

Claiming Number One

Nothing of much worth

Only this mad curse

Not wanting to get into it, not

letting anything show

Just  “U-S-A! U-S-A!”

Ready to praise the next ardent buzzpitch

Genuflecting

to the new autocratic niche

Saluting the mirror

David Swanson says:

“My background includes being an advertising copywriter/producer in Chicago for 29 years. When the advertising agency business became merger-manic, I became a technical writer for the next 25 years and these days continue as a freelance technical writer/graphic designer/photographer. All through these episodes, the muses never let up, and making poetry continues.”