16 Oct 2015 – Ghazal
Eastern smoke, fed Western flames, leaps burning cities.
Do-good dotage can’t upkeep the burning cities.
Healing fountains finish last in precinct tallies.
Ballot boxes! Blazing brands! Reap burning, city!
The sheep – sans shepherds – gnawing off their broken limbs!
Who in hell can blame them? Weep, O burning city!
Neon narcolepsy, love in full remission!
Dance and do not make a peep, you burning cities!
There’s a weenie-roast of souls, and you’re invited!
Kindling cordwood stacked in heaps for burning cities!
A dying generation seeks for fresh recruits!
Study hard! Someday you’ll sweep this burning city!
The Golden Calf’s the Greatest Salesman of them all!
You can always find it cheap in burning cities!
Faith is sold like cigarettes – less tar, more menthol.
Smoke ’em if ya got ’em! Keep on burnin’, cities!
Daylight dims, and stars defect from coming nightmares.
No one in their right mind creeps through burning cities.
Old friend in battle, better sheath that angry tongue.
You fan flames yourself, asleep in burning cities.