Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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DecemberThirtyone

Will 2012 be any different, as we sit
on the cusp, I wait at the wall, waiting
the clock, as the sun sets, on men
left to their own designs of diversion
detour, dancing away from what really is
obfuscation, a science of populace sleep
days of ignorance, overdoses of news-bites
sit-coms and video-disiac reality, system
feedback blaring out the real, static mind
check falling back, deepening the stupor
myself, a lone rider from the void, annulling
lonesomeness in living green, layers
of tropical means, empty handed, I sing
no looking into eyes, the dead, far from
such complicated incidental things
like the rhetoric of war, to create some
economic benefit, as an act of self-defense
pre-emptive strike meant, as we read into
other people’s imagination, what might
become, justifying slaughter and doom:
can this new year of planetary alignment
save us and redeem Jesus from His tomb?




Jan G. Otterstrom F 12/31/2011 Costa Rica, La La Land.