Carbon

Pyramids of Love built on foundations of sand and adultery will stand the tests of time
Despite the initial consensus and wishes of the slave laborers who made that dirt reach the sky.
Stop and go politics have taken the poets and the beards and the bicycles off of the streets
Only to be replaced with the clean shaven mutants who don't even share their cigarettes
But who cares!? So long as they buy and drink the beer and hold the state upon their shoulders, like it were the football star prom king.
Oh, Huck! No longer the Drunk, but the former drunk locked up in your cell
I saw you caged long before they turned the key.
Oh, Huckleberry! Oh, Coyote! Oh, Old Wisconsin!
Where is she?
Where is she, who has done this to you?
That first lady who made YOU the way you are today!
We all know where She is, that first big storm that came rock 'n rolling through our midwest pastures to tame us, only to leave the next season
She, who we once all drank to and toasted.
Now we drink to forget Her.
Poeia!
You told me this Ben, you wandering Fool, you Poet in Coyote's skin clothing.
But you REFUSED to tell me the meaning, for you did not want to ruin the meaning for me!
Bless you!
Bless you and anyone else who refuses to destroy the alluring subtext.
It was also you who showed me without teaching to pocket your cigarettes, lest the birds pick up on our nasty habits.
My teeth are stained with cigarettes
Clothes burned with cigarettes
Ash covered poetry
All we are is ash.
All we are is smoke.
All we are are ghosts.