Everything That Rises

This intervention has the feel of déjà vu The record's spinning forever locked in its groove A way of life reduced to a form Stylized routinized to a shallow and shiny norm From revolution to cliché Just superficial stimulation But what's different? appearances change There's no progress in this apocalypse Everything that rises must converge All the meaningful surprises Grow from within and stretch the threads Of molded costumes copied, sinned, and said Rags that cover neglect and decay Veil desire's all-compelling force Generations lived through their eyes Dissatisfied with any compromise The searing balm of burning screens Faith in sense impression or ironic equivocation It's just culture, neither right nor wrong Someplace to hide, from considering From revolution, to cliché, We lose our way Faith in sense impression, ironic simulation So responsible in this noble stimulation Coming down to unchanged reality Everything that meets must diverge A patchwork king of limited domain Stitched and sewn and overblown