NEW HORIZON    I wrote this in August, 2001

 
new horizon 1

Above the new horizon flies

The gossamer wing that never lands.

 

Between rain storms, Donner and Blitzen,

You can look up and count on 

All your blessings,

Your microwave membership 

To a hidden cam society

Where its okay to fear establishment,

Show belly buttons and hinny cleavage,

Produce green house gasses.

 

Hey…This culture grew up with science.

You believe in science, don’t you? 

Don’t you?  That 18 yak expedition 

To the top of She-She Mama,

Porters with freezers on their backs,

Hiking along the ice age glacier, returning

With isotopes of globe warming proof.

 

On dancer, on Prancer.

Tragedy has always advanced the new design,

And let us commune from palm to palm,

Romance in a toilet stall with porcelain hearts

Moving at the speed of the misinformed,

Barreling through the wasteland, groping the

Online ironies of the vast and the dumb.

You’re getting a taste, 

A change is about to come.

 

Old and new worlds collide 

In a poignant dichotomy.

Oh, it’s nothing that can’t be stated 

With an orgy pile,

Or a cumulonimbus of laundry 

Darkening the corner.

It’s like the ideal marriage that ends in murder.

What else is an ideal marriage for?

 

Enter the zipper gripper, magna cum nada,

Drug diluter, kneecapping, 

Flight zero-zero of imagination.

Science and television have sparked 

His blue pilot light of energy.

And, Mrs. magna, Comet or Cupid, 

She too will submit

To the pull of grommet strings 

And laced Edwardian kink.

She likes to feel the tug of eyelets in the fabric

Securing the edge, the bridle ring.

She too can be sexy by the yard, 

Layered in lace,

Go undercover, hyper-sexual 

In bare body essentials.

You can wear your body 

If your body is ready to wear;

Another exposure, oiled and writhing.

 

As Rilke says,

Do not think I live untroubled 

Among these words.

Life is tough, otherwise I could not find them.

 

Spare me the drop jaw look of sudden interest,

The sparkly-eyed amusement. 

The system  IS  risky,

Though not without money-back guarantees.

It implores you to feed a crying need,

The residents of garbage heaps, 

Future terrorists.  Dasher and Vixen.

 

Go for the fashion mag fix.

Go on, listen to the motivational tapes,

The audio feedback loop, seminar input

And bobbling head-nod testimonials.

The world needs you 

And all the money you can send.

You’ll be so happy you did, 

The before and after

Will convince you to do it all, 

No fuss, no mess,

No thought, no talent, 

It all happens in just seconds.
 

©Jimmy Warner, 2010