Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

there's a rhythm
in the jaws that chew
the scenery of truth, masticate it
'til it dissolves into pearls
of something that feels real,
digest your visions in the acid
that strips away the bogus
desires of men with monolithic egos,
heads too large to fit through
the doors of perception, Aldous Huxley
rolls his dead eyes like you better
go to the back of the line, 'cause
the universe don't like no line-jumpers
or galoots with big elbows, emperors
naked with only skinny legs to stand on,
'cause a gale is blowin' 'cross the prairie
of time like hot breath on a cold mirror
and there is a knowing face looking back at you
in the stricken steam oozing from the earth's mantle
wink not at the disappearing image

Yes I feel this poem in a frustration I have with the dull repetitive arguments I get when slamming a truth down on the table ,nothing , your poem addresses why we are not heard those who will say the king is naked, I grow weary of silence but it is better than the bullshit dealt out as excuses for human stupidity. Sharp poem, quiet ,with teeth