Roman rhyme: CALLING MIKE

Calling Mike
Dark and twisted
Like your past.
Chrystal clear,
Yet some secrets within.
Your visual rhythm
Pounds the drums of my ears.
Homage to the master
Of universal mind.
Right there,
On the edge of darkness.
Divine light cutting
Right through our
Shortened little brains.
And there you pave
The way for modernistic
Adorers of the future.
Squint your eyes
Back and forth,
Abstract me some figures. 

Meticulous detail
Painstakingly placed
On the walls of God.
Your venture as ironic
As Job’s return
To Heaven.
What will happen
If the Gods learn
Of your devious ways,
Your devilish hist’ry?
What will they do
To undo your blasphemous
Ass from itself?

They will glorify you.

Call for Caravaggio!
A wave of fools and
Drooling lunatics
About to wash over you,
White wigs in place.
Tight faces, clinched cheeks.
Your enemy is weak,
Caravaggio.
They are diplomats,
You see.
And me and my neighbors
Their humble servants.

“We is come to deny you.
We is come to ignore you.
We is come to destroy you.
We is come here before you.
We is come…

[We is backwards…]”
 

And soon follow more
And more bodies,
Rolling down the hill
To fill the frame with
Lame layers of skin
Instead of gold paint
Coloring the corners
Of our imagination.
And your vision
Is out of sight.

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