The Sunday Poem

Immolation Nation

FIRE WORKS

Is the immaculate immolation/of a man in flames

a spectacle of madness/ or a tale/told by an idiot

signifying nothing/you tell me

Maybe just maybe/his mind was on fire/burning with yearning

a burnt out hull of blazing truths/ half dead already when

ambulances and fire fighters arrived /he was highly unstable/

unable to digest our daily bread

of bad news/ bad elitist dudes in masks

the fireworks of crazy numbers only aliens can grasp

we know those stories/ know them all

they are not tall tales/some of them ring true

He wanted us to do/some Thing/start the revolution

get off Crypto/beware of digital devolution

He will not be the last

the mental blaze is now too bright/the flames jumping

from story to story/the fire in the mind/devours reality

everything solid melts into air/beware of baked-in convictions

stick with your brain renovictions

there’s no there there

Just remember/you do not have to set yourself ablaze/

just set a controlled fire/to the rubbish in your head

It beats being dead, trust me, she said