Omne ignotum pro magnifico

What is unknown is thought to be magnificent,
so please indulge me as I share vague imagery
from the safety of my fortress of misdirection
by talking around and around and around and...
Children squeal with heartbreaking laughter as they
ride carousels constructed in a nightmare to teach
them being impaled with mechanized authority can
be beautiful and moving in circles is an adventure.

Just down the hill sits a shack painted white
inside and out, because that is an easy choice
that matches everything to include the plastic
flowers in neat rows that will never wilt away.
The lady who lives there is part chameleon,
so if she invites you in for a beer you never
know if she really means it or if she is
secretly horrified you didn’t know to refuse.

There's a guy up the street that wears a mask
with no mouth so as not to offend with a smirk
or a frown and I wonder if anyone knows who he is
that could give a description if he disappeared.
I marvel at how frequently seductive this approach
seems in a world where so few are truly accepted
for who they are, allowing the absence of love in
others to steal the joy of the sun on their face.

Descendants of dinosaurs tear open a meal to
spread it before them over the ground, but they
get no respect and are chased away with a broom
because now they're just crows feasting on trash.
On the edge is a graveyard with a freshly dug plot
amidst the rows upon rows in the manicured lawn
and the only thing written on the stone is
"Here lies" with no one to be seen standing around.

These are the things that scare me...



-- by Steve McKennon, September 20, 2008