There is a version of a song that when sung out loud
gave the men an instant gratification. They looked
abound, seeing their whole world brightened
by the song from lips of angel.
Decided to create
a utopia reminiscent of the tune heard from around
the world. In the place of
the stars they placed
light bulbs, yellow and whorish, blurred amongst
the black of night, and in that garish sense they
spurned the advances of color determining a tainted
white of urine to illuminate what beauty they
surmised they felt. As the
darkness cascaded
from the beauty of that heavenly song the men
took to cutting down trees, erecting drywall
with shoddy plaster not caring that each swing
of hammer swung, left holes behind them, dented
in nails before them, and allowed no scenery to hang
thereupon. These men with
white robes, and serene
suits belted orange faced to the masses of people
gathered to live in this perfect world, and after
slaughtering a virginal girl decided red would
be the color to paint their halls.
The angels kept on singing
up until guillotine came down upon neck, abandoned
that world but the men still tried to sing it, what they stole,
they pretended to repeat it, but they could only scream
it.
