itchin and scratchin

 
peace signs are flashing , war signs on the grill flaming up at random
presidential candidates proposing to double your W
Out of of some over done genre novel, the blowhards blow out in tandem
Werewolves showing their stubble.


Marching to the beat , lost in cyberspace
itchin and scratchin with information
Twitching with words twisted and so won't fit on a bookcase
Wisdom is a restaurant or a whiskey or some line of fashion, or some new dot.com foundation.

For What Its Worth on ipods comfort zoning the chaos engines
The reflexes losing the survival instinct
Rehearsals for the post- apocalyptic horror flick raw with adrenaline
But the cautionary tales have failed to keep the raves from raiding the the junk
drawer
In the face of the giant waving the flag , official circle systems gone defunct.

The eleventh hour putters along while the power brokers sputter
The fury that matters letting out a mutter and forming into clusters.