Sin & Danger

Clock hands shaped like sniper rifles
clicked soundly to futures
where vandals tresspass shilling malls
and rictus grins increase mania.
We are drowning families,
family drowned,
animals in weakened packs
hunting jams and spirits,
spirit jam.

Bruised cheeks bold as the rising sun
turn to face bottles and daggers
as Jewy nosed crooks run their creepy show,
make no mistake in dangerous dens.
In riots and order,
ordered riots
we rampage through electric cities,
city rampage.

And pearl handled razors are shelved pretty;
blades polished by mortuary wax
prepared for the shredding,
stood in saluted awe to misery.
The mad love crazes
crazy mad,
revving engines of violence,
violent revs.

New dawns arise from volcanic dents,
tiny sequels to the sunshine monsters
who ravage knitted bosoms
in liveries of spangled gore.
The smiles of infants
infant smile,
born alive and dying
dead alive...

@Steven Francis poems 2010