. Apollo and Bacchus hanged in the neon marketplace; Cold feet under etherial faces. Bore-ed by the lack of temerity, Slack desire suborning the bandannaed faces 5 Of hippies contented by Peace, and not Energy; Marijuana leaves placidly Shading the crib and high-chair. Bored by the lack of passion Expanded bank accounts conferred upon their elders 10 Lacking still the capacity, it seemed, messrs, To "cope;" they craved the indelible in action. 100 punks, or fewer, or one, Concoct out of impossible desire impossible reality: Burning ambitions in Waldorf St, or SoHo's zone, 15 Shed from the aether These symphonies. With a tongue of justice, With an eye of fire, With an ear made fabulous 20 By beloved mind's one wept flame: desire. Rotten's masquerades, Sid's pinioned victory, The burboned voice of Hell establishing "blankness" as priority 25 In a world floating valueless; incisive, the eye of ice. Aching faces brave the astonishing light, Asserting TRUTH in ecstatic sanction; Our redemption was individual, 30 London our capitol. Our "decade" compressed to " '77!" We acknowledged, as aftereffect, a fey, uneven "inheritance" of "reticence." Youth as a remembered depravity 35 Gives no living soul satisfaction; relentless Sojourning away from their parents' questioning Consigned to them the "aridity" of bliss. * * * * When dust hath hushed the roses, 40 Unmeditating silence This crimson-cerise splinter of song Encloses On time's blank slate Lick this, and relate: 45 "Here twists, with upraised fist, An Anarchist!"
From the collection "Ascent"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.