Odyssey

Test, test, testing,
April is the cruellest month,
cruellest month.
Lilacs in the warm rain
blossom on Yorick's skull,
summer days are all the same.

And here we sit, we of
sullen posture and eternal
night sky; always wondering
why, yet never having the
courage to ask the Right People.
We, the next generation!

We're a stone's throw from
the answer, clutching a map
with no names; thus no
beginning and no end.
Without words there was
never anything there at all.

The fall, the fall is steep, the
hole is deep; and down we
creep. Down where there's
nothing but perpetual black
and post-modern pseudo-
-Ginsbergian literary charlatans.

You! You, with your insufferable
pessimism and ridiculous
adjectives! You, with your split
of disorganised free-verse
and trite abab rhymes;
No harmonised blend for you.

Deceivers!
Contraveners!
Blasphemers!

The silence of a thousand
sons was broken in a vast
cataclysmic blast of energy;
Supernova Jehovah. But, what
is this demon? This sphinx?
The beast known as language?!

Communication is the new black,
that is a fact. Attack. React.
Imagine as though nothing is
lacked. Attack! React! Society
demands that you react! Seek
the word to discover the fact!

And this is our indeterminable
existence; dawn or dusk,
positive or negative, beginning
or end; all is one under the
warm summer rain in the lilac
eyes of the demon; language.