FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS

how much how much would be such as
to be too much too much or maybe just as
much to count as much for them to bust us?
that’s where we’ve always been
- somewhere in between –
an inn in a dream, say, like sour cream
not as hot as hell, not as freakish as heaven
but something in between –
sorbet when you craved ice cream
how dare you flee from a night in gaol?
how dare you feed from a nightingale?
for I could be the king of juice
or the lord of ringtones in Beetlegeuse
and yet reckon myself as the drama-queen
in a dancing club packed with aces
were it not for this poker grin
laughing upside-down my face
I beg you to bring the thing we need
we’d fly so high our minds would go past
our eyes would soar past us so fast
till we disappear
I beg you to give us all the power we greed asap,
I beg you to give’em all the powder to the soviets
maybe it’s high time we go
we’d be better off if we CEO
maybe it’s high time we blow
we’d be already off if UFO
if we tiptoe and I lose the rope
will you still be in the near?
if we topple and I loosen the hope
is it our voiceovers we will overhear?
at last, as the threads snap
a yell, a patrol bell, an alarm spell
our fears freezing
what the hell are we doing here?
the wellspring of a siren sing
a telltaling thing, unreal thing
what the hell we hear?

our own screams
repealing
at Bell’s theorem