we serve at the pleasure of the absurd

we serve at the pleasure of the absurd
slumped over empirical menageries
sleeping on purpose like a god
thumbing through the Dailys-
you forgot about. 
we serve at the pleasure of the mundane
unkempt but maniacal with our religions
in our teeth; swirling impervious
to the noise 
of the
Truth.

something like a blanket in the shape of a flame
where stupidity can preach and impossible 

we serve at the pleasure of dust.
grunts in a wheel of angels
dreaming of Ezekiel’s Wheels
in the middle of the Night
the Sun reveals .
we serve at the pleasure of what’s forgotten.
lick-spittle ravens on a nob of sugar drenched in always…
frump with withering and anguish
half-dancing like a human
for a Price.