#carson mccoll

The enemy of thought, friend of flattering illusion The emptiness we sought, the corruption and confusion Of children wrapped in metal; bonewhite sons and daughters Silent standing legions, composed and classical for Reuters Where the cloying kiss of privilege negates all right and wrong For when your thoughts are simple your machinery is strong Where born again as image, in these viral times Imperial, provisional, in body and borderline Their images explode, their issuance repeating Source code underwritten, liquid crystals streaming Through the strict geometry of channels cut in scrip As subdued populations await a honey drip That's bitter, black as coffee, having come from every flower From a broken crop, ripe for this: recasting power. With more faith in the damned than I have in the devout It is a bad pain in my gut and I want to spit it out. Against those standing legions, rise up, exalt your voice For the sovereignty of soul is a constant choice And upon harmonic ground, down among this sacred dust Where the smoke is rising, wet on the edge with blood Let the stage stand empty, of the image, paint it black And if the future is a nation, let this be its flag.