there aint never no magic words or wands
or mathematizing ruses for muting alarms
just the desecrating deeds of misanthropic weeds
or the existential freedom of humane performs  

just a piece of the pie aint enough . . .
(’cause anesthetize’n fantasize’n invisibilize’n 
hypocritizing’s in here roll’n our dough)

the eyes are betraying our coffling words  
tangling up in turds of beguiling absurds 
baptizing our bodies in talismanic tattoos
 and coffling alternatating hoodoos
 we’re syncophants here. . . aloning all alone
shot’n’up on reality hallucinationings of
being like our themmms up there on stage
who they all do’n the same just like you
 pixelate’n automatons wrap’n’up in the
echos of our orchestrating-ninged BOOOO’s 
so make’n like we’re be’n seen in this dark 
robotically amen’n the sanctifying of  
hypocritical theorizings so sanitizing
 misanthropic legislationings of
 genocidal manifesting destinationings  
 so this somebody we’re see’n enlarging
 in our mirrors on the walls and there on
the faces in our malling stalls is always
the fault of themmm other somebody elses
and them B.S.’n up our heads do’n the
same to themselves that they do’n to you
razzmatazz’n recycling recyclings of 
addicting automatons OMM’n on’n’on’n’on  
synthesizing masturbationing incantationings
of this same old same old serpentining ruse
still slithering here inside’us where it’s residing
rabidly swallow’n every soul that’s abiding this
rhythmic convoluting syncopationing vamp’n
here in the belly of this jonah’s slave whale

Copyright (c) 2021 Asili Ya Nadhiri