Unlocked
The strong are always leaving
So that the weak may grow
To be shaken from their dreaming
What he wonders, she already knows
Children throwing stones
Til everyone is dead
Or until Mother Sophia
Puts them all to bed
A blind man screaming
At the deaf who cannot hear
Who wonder if he’s singing
And why he gestures so severe
The Small Wheel turns
Crushing all in its path
While the parade marches on
Into the bloody aftermath
And the gold-plated pipes
Of the canary loudly sing
A mesmerizing tune
Despite a mechanical ping
As they stomp the grapes
For their intoxicating brew
Which their priest will quickly bless
And they’ll sip within their pews
And no more doves are commissioned
To check receding waters or growth
They’ve all been plucked clean
And bar-b-qued right on the boat
Unnoticed the Big Wheel moves
Like the ocean dark and deep
Too much for most to fathom
They much prefer their sleep
And they pray their souls to keep
As salvation slips out of reach
And there’s no one left to teach
As the waves devour their beach
While gentle Moon hides her face once again.
---unAsleep