Wrath and Roll | Anna Rabinowitz
My soul is not itself, A loud jargogle invades the plague of contingency. Of course, I often deliciate in a state of confusion, Especially when I wildly corrade detritus with illusion. Many collages create mayhem, but these days folks Giggle and kench, hosting bitter tears in their eyes. No one seeks the mockery or scorn of ludibrious games. Our ailing world is dedicated to erase sanguinolency. Hence the decline of bloodshed in our current wars. Drones, our best to date grade A, silent, unmanned aer- Ial vehicles, our sleek UAVs, aces of launch and leave, Save lives. SAVE LIVES. Hip, hip, hooray, yippee!? Remote control: surf the Web, site define In its prime: eye on the screen, eye in the sky. Get it down cold in comfy seats at safe old Creech. Skill the scan, learn the drill and clinch their cease. The shift is done, a setting sun, and home To ground round patties on the grill, a jog with the dog, A kiss for kids, drowsy, and wiped, hitting the sheets, Plus shades down for a fuck, a hug, and a good night’s sleep. We’ve navigated a boundless longinquity. Life is luculent. War is kind.
from Words On the Street