the plane the plane the plane

[revolutionR]

the plane is going down
the pilot has passed out drunk
the TV's babbled some incoherent nonsense
about some impossible election results
the symphony dragged violins down the street
pot holes sunk deeper and bridges rocked
everywhere we see the slouching toward Babylon
and you might as well close your good book
movies flashed on crumbling walls
like bootleg films of real news
and hurricanes whirled and tornadoes tore
and everything shook to the core
and the Queen of England waved from the palace door

we always knew the poet was right
it was always the poets that saw it first
once people marched in the streets for a reason
now they just mach like mindless zombies
and the music cannot stop the headless parade
the birds are falling from the stitched sky
empty uniforms line up with passed down weapons of war
to stop the advance of puppy dogs and teddy bears
the new head of state is about to make a speech
to the deplorable rabble that dabble in politics
the moon decides to piss on the crowd of bought and paid
for actors that pretend to give a shit about the outcome
as if we didn't know all along the jig was up, and the rig
was rigged, only the poets knew all along that the center
cannot hold, and that what we are told is nothing we can dig