Rap/Song To Sing

by Roland Hagenberg

Pearls in boxes of art on display
not only because of their beauty
in times when borders are porous
and pillars are broken
to be ugly is also their duty
inciting discontent and mutiny
among the coast guards burdened with booty

Artists are rightly accused of fiction
preserving their independence should be their addiction
defending freedom to the point of eviction
or resigning to an artistic existence that causes friction
where solitude is the result of encrypted resistance but not contradiction

Weather patterns change with occasional hail
intriguingly picturesque cracks in a glaciers tail
bears and birds – frail, on a predictable trail when they fail
spotted by DJs on drilling platforms – all out on bail
until they collapse
to no avail
like the princess under an endless Arabian veil
leaving behind in the sands a sensual trail

History often rests on the back of dark flies
and the flies black out memories of unrest on diplomats’ neckties
by decree, law, rules or otherwise
cheating you out of your best highs
so you stay trapped between songs of treacherous magpies
even you give it your best tries
you’re stuck between thighs of white lies

Culprits and captors and keepers of power
changing judges in costumes by the hour
hauling along dust, crumbs and seeds that turn sour
for the eternally shipwrecked
any waterboarding is a side aspect
under barbed wire towers
while the truth is a retract in the act
of the unchecked
who offer women in front of cameras flowers.

Believers congregate to collect delusions
their arms open for indoctrinating infusions
to arrive at far more outrageous conclusions
which is always mankind’s solution:
to end up periodically in dissolutions.

Sleepy caterpillars under pillows chill us
transmitting intimate dreams to the North Americas
being accused – of course upsets us
so we run like Kafka in circles with a head full of mistrust
until we drop speechless
in a pool of morass
because all went too fast.

The cosmic dictum says there are no exceptions
and that includes me - the writer with extra sensory perceptions
because love me or leave me is no longer an option
or to opt out from elections and apply for adoption
to be save from the captain in a sea of corruption.

Enough talk about ugly pearls in an art box
keep them like romance or love not always under locks
venture out to collect drift wood from ordinary life in the docks
make fire for friends under familiar rocks
and write them occasionally letters and songs
with a brush from the fur of a smart fox.