There's chatter in the cafes
It comes from people sitting across facing each other's faces
Though the weather is cold the talk goes ad nauseous
No, it wasn't on account of trading feces
It was probably the dainty little cups of coffee; black, milked and chocolated, creamed and sugared, that's sparking the hullabaloo
Here's one thing about conversations that almost always rings true and blue;
No matter what the setting or the stage-
It’s always wordless tirade bereft of any selfless fate
And that’s just fine, as long as what’s yours is yours and what’s mine is mine
If a dialogue should stumble in, then well, let's make that bugger pay
We'll just play humble
Keep appearing busy
Once in a while go noisy, step-up the stakes, let go off the brakes
Drive in for the kill
Show the skill
Provide the thrill
And like a honking dunking traffic jam seen from afar
Be like a vantage view; so few
Like a rooftop on a skyscraper
Pan in from a penthouse terrace
Atop a peak so to speak
From a summit dammit!
Like when one goes into quiet modicum in a church of opaque glass
Or a temple of taint
Monastery of punks
Synagogue of pills and tablets
Mosque of mayhem
And in other such hallowed cemented gatherings of the somber faithful
Pious and sad
Righteous and mad
Devout and dastardly
Full of faith and misery
Dulled and addled
Asphyxiated neck above and constipated ass below
Where faces are tightly squeezed
Zipped in places
Buttoned in sweating graces
Wrung to oblivion
Wrinkled to death
Venomous veins bursting about the flesh
Exiting which comes the frantic pace
Of communication, proclaiming:
Did ya feel the presence of the lord god?
Did ya get possessed by the divine spirit?
Did ya eat his body?
Did ya drink his flesh?
I feel so filled!
My thirst is quenched!
Where being silent can cost you excommunication
Where projecting a normal posterior invites wrath of the doubtful kind dipped in outraged views of blasphemy
They'll tell ya what's the matter with ya?
Don't ya like angels?
You don't like to talk boy?
Are you fishing for a pariah?
Don't you wanna mingle?
Where's your bait of regret?
Your can of worms?
Your hook of guilt?
Don’t you wanna be liked?
Create a web of networking bees able to churn the curd and weave a honeycomb?
Get yer ladle and yer own saddle?
You see that man? He's amazing! A genius! Why, he runs the universe as we know it!
Come on boy; let me introduce you, 'cos you'll never know where it might lead you!
He's the guy to talk to if you wanna get into the business of prosperity
Or happiness as we now dub it
Trust me he'll say and insist
You oblige knowing well it’s futile to resist
Make sweet talk peppered with pleasantries of the day
It's snowing you say obviously pointing and nodding at the weather
Lovely isn't it he'll agree
Coffee he offers
Why not sure you defer most sincerely
And you do mean it for the aromatic beverage
For on cold days in a warm cafe the prospect of a good cup of coffee brewed from the beans of some hardworking Ethiopians' fields of prospering decay is as real as the cigarette smoke leaving trials of blackened soot in your lungs
That goes for the hardworking labor put forth into the beans of the Colombians too
And Arabs who know nothing of the world wide web's jihad
Not that I'm picky about my coffee but who can ignore popular posts and calculated likes?
And the rumblings of bored surfers therein
Dwellers of couch potatoes
Lazy boy tomatoes
Gluttonous ministers who go by the honorific honorables
Such as His Most Excellent Excellency
Gracing podium after podium
Forum after forum
Conference after conference
Delivering rich equity, my harmony, whose solidarity, what development, preferred tolerance, selective hard-work, premeditated unemployment, organic banter, gender bender, 4-wheel drive roads, lamp electricity, symbolic iPads, retarded smartphones, warm refrigerators, and the moon soon as soon as terms are reached with NASA, together with promises of galaxies to bring unto earth heavenly glory, and all its inhabiting celestials
And the stars, dead and dying
I digress too easily
For I began with my abhorrence of chatter
And got into an endless soliloquy of my own banter
Guffshuff will tire ya
Kill yer finer sensibilities
Murder yer peace
Ruin yer calm
Stir yer stillness
Render you voiceless in a sea of ceaseless waves
Rippling with nonsense
Crushing banks of serenity
In that collective sedated state of dull consciousness
As I bow out
I do so confessing that I too am a clown
Working for the circus
Employed for entertainment
And taken for a ride
Each and every grueling night
And to add a dash of flashing variety
Flavored with each and every singular imaginable buffet of tasty fright
Self served on a platter they smile and claim
Following generous instructions of
-As you please sir
-As you please!
For above all else
-You matter sir
*Glow Gliterati Glow
Here’s a foreword
For all of you in your castles and palaces and especially for those who are wretched in their huts and thatches
Here's a song
For all of you who can croon and swoon and especially for those who miss seeing the moon for they've been granted no such boon
Here’s a poem
For all of you who can write and rhyme and especially for those who stymie, stutter and crime
Here’s a beat
For all of you who love to dance and prance and especially for those who try but can’t
Here’s a line
For all of you who love what’s fine and 'mine' and especially for the tragic pantomime
Here’s a flower
For all of you who love peace and power and especially for those who withered never having had a shower
For all of you who are verbal and love it herbal and especially for those who love it black with a cigarette and some trouble
For all of you who’ve been well provided and thereby abide and especially for the ones who daily battle the wages and strife
Here’s a medal
For all of you who are a success and especially for those failures who depress and cannot impress
Here’s a footnote
For all of you who value shelves full of books and especially for those condemned and barred as crooks
Here’s a conclusion
For all of you who enjoy a happy good end and especially for those who are still travelling around the bend enduring whatever’s en-route to the mend
— at Ymittos.