Composites and Renders

When humans learned to paint the sky. A Guerrilla Literature poem conceptualized, written and scheduled by Kerr Martin.

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

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Composites,
Renders
Artistic lies for curious eyes.
Wonders sold to the dreamers,
To steal away the thoughts and dreams.
They’ll tell you what to think,
They’ll tell you what you mean.
You can’t believe the things you’ve seen.

Are you beyond the dome?
Even satellites hang in our skies,
Luna in the atmosphere
Slipped her leash but still at home.
We can’t go back or so we’re told,
Though she sits within our grasp.
“We can go to Mars, it’s a matter of fact!”
Yet too the Moon? We can’t go back.

Waters above and waters below,
a firmament stitched through liminal space.
Old gods drowned but never died,
just learned new names in human fonts.
Heaven sealed with atmosphere,
Earth afloat on unseen seas.
Tell me which side of the glass we’re on,
when will the sky remember how to bleed?

Titans breach beneath the surface noise,
moving markets with a flick of tail.
High-stakes tables, felted green,
where house odds dress as destiny.
False flags raised, then waved away,
wrapped in lies that go down easy.
Simple stories for hungry mouths,
while the whales fish patient for the marks.

Sewer rats preach orbit and order,
snakes in suits shed skin on cue.
Left hand swears it’s not the right,
both hands signing the same damn lies.
Red or blue, the script holds fast,
different masks, identical acts.
Tear them down, not one by one,
God stands whole beyond mere man.

Composites again. Renders refined.
Heaven sold as an artistic lie.
Wool pulled soft over faithful eyes,
sheep taught wonder, taught not why.
Astronaut wolves in borrowed suits,
teeth white as the stars they cite.
They never left the slaughterhouse,
they learned to hunt the eternal night.

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