Chaos Fearie

Gerard Brom

Armed with minimalist pipe dreams
and dogmatic conspirator schemes
The duo lie low in ambush awaiting the downpour abating

Sister double deranger
green eyes ogle her pornographic burka
Her habit concealing the silicon stranger
Brother berserker
a yellow dog psychotic evangelic ranger
a cross-dressing deserter
from the army of attitude arrangers

Together they suck on the crucifix but don’t suffer the pretext
that led them to sleep on your doorstep
and lay down the laws (for a charitable cause)
and demand that you follow the leader

Law 1:
Don’t spit on the street or shuffle your feet
but maximise your returns at the station of dreams
and ancient pyramid schemes
While locomotives fish-tail a Cadillac-motif detail
On the retrograde moon
And cover those manholes
where girl guides shelter their cause
like the tarnish on your mum’s silver spoon
And the scratches on doors from marshmallow werewolf paws

Law 2:
The man from insurance broken
will leave you a redeemable token
a schedule of smiles and tax-deductible miles
a mask-painted face complete with tears of disgrace
for the laces entangled in toenail truth mangled
and fingers and thumbs for those cannibal drums
that threaten to eat the night sky

Law 3:
No naked flames, aeroplanes or under-dressed salad bars
No forks or no spoons dangerous objects digested
in the office where they manufacture the twinkling stars
for consumption by glossy-eyed passive page-turners
Whose only request is to be pissed on by the best
and to glow in the warmth of their passing

And who would have guessed that the very well dressed
would be soiling their nests
with the cash from your voyeuristic interest
While the rest of us danced to the puppeteer’s epileptic stance
so that the coins in our pockets did jangle
And the heart of the matter, the mind over clatter,
could best be observed from this angle

And try as I might to keep putting up a fight
I find myself tied to the rail
That hums with the strain of the oncoming train
and the black cloak of the ultimate station
Where freedom awaits, devoid of hope's pearly gates
or the horror of life everlasting.

And the words that you choke in the back of your throat
will fly from your mouth...
...like confetti at the wedding of wonder
and a lightning strike force, a final divorce
that will cleave all your atoms asunder
and send you to bed with all those books that you’ve read
but never bothered to open in wonder