• Catch-44.mp32:42

fading blanco ornamental hollow symbol castle
comes complete with furnished office bumper-seated throne
relocation retrospected hardly worth the hastle
departure date inflexible/ no option rent to own
potential buzzed by promises clean carpeted arrival
surprised to see a mutiny before the ship left port
confused to watch the seeds of hope sprout trees of hate revival
while career clowns coordinate to your ambitions thwart
your favorite suit sewn from a naive thread
philosophy forged carefully from out of cannon tomes
thin optimism like a snakeskin shed
as protesters stoked fires in a hundred separate Romes
the guidon bearers cowardly broke rank
dividing and professing demographic-polled convictions
you stretched between them bridge-like as a plank
pleading against patria derelictions
the mosaic painted on the ceiling of the halls of power
is nothing but a mirror image of the bold who look
now you stand atop the Mount and sense the waning hour
aware the fires of history were not given but took
therein lies your prism-painted rubix
what future profs will coin “catch forty-four”
the currency of promise bought your tickets
but there’s no one to collect them by the brighter future door
the handle is not made of brass but plaster
the peep hole too high fastened and quite small
your touch reveals the breadth of the disaster
the door is just a painting on a wall
so you turn to face again your loyal fellowship
noting the last embers of impatience in their eyes
as the clowns slip you a card of lifetime membership
lighting cigars to celebrate survival of the guise
you have the skill to scale the wall and solitary summit
though you alone will see the other side
you have the strength to smash a hole and blast a passage from it
but victim costs from brick debris your conscience won’t abide
a thousand puddles dot the land divided
darkened pools of sentiments diverged beyond repair
drawn together as a wave one-minded
their crest could breach the wall with space to spare
with this your dream you pulpit plea for union
though from the Mount your voice begins to strain
and the crowd reverts to conflict from communion
as your final sunlit hour starts to wane