MACHIAVELLI

over the coffee table
conversations burned and passed to the left
great muse of philosophy
we questioned everything
as our minds danced mechanically inside
the music box of the moon

why? asked the subterranean walls
and we spoke back to them – no prejudices
we debated debate
we questioned patriarchy and matriarchy
dadaism and mamaism
we took purple smoke-chains from trains
and followed them off the coasts of america
we perfected our universal accents
trying to avoid drowning in the transatlantic ocean
peace was assumed and love was the ice in our
whiskey

a forum free from the wires of electricity
banter like sawed-off shotguns
questions like symphonies lost in the dark
we sang swan songs around a lazy susan
passionately counted the revolutions of the
ceiling fan

we splashed cartoon colors onto white walls
we sawed the legs off dinner tables
and let the chairs walk around the apartment
and for an evening the turntable was our god
we made sweet communion sitting right beside her
our minds bleeding happily through our eyes
my whiskey ghosts fled from the vicinity
we ate veraciously from
the tree of knowledge
as it rained apples
broken banging on the ceiling-floor

we turned off the television
we turned on our amplified souls
we made armistice with the burning part of the world
all this in the withered hands
that open the doors to perception
we passed through the threshold
leaving our material clothes behind

today i shake the polaroid
and watch reality bloom around the green stem of
our personal perspective on perception
three souls
a holy trinity
existing everywhere
in the midnight hum of a square room

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

Read “NUCLEAR CREATION”