The xy Factor

© carol voccia 2009



Its tall boy wheels

All gloss and chrome and glass

Wheedling foreign

Objects as distractions


Clipping off cut nails on

Board room sales chart

Grounding of edges

Egos caustic evolvements

Revolve in mental worlds


Sipping a testosterone cocktail

Drone sniffing the heat relentless as

The gas burning on the sun

Orbiting for the kill in

Bedrooms of commerce

Or boardrooms of romance

They come as chiefs and solders

Twisting a look at the time

Adjusting for rendezvous under the

Skirts of town between thick thighs



Hellions swilling down the rush

Commanding attention

While slick tawdry laws capture everyone

But them



Commandos of history charging hills

Ordering the sky to open

And pour out poisons of war

Claiming seas to vomit red

Spilling their load over the sheets



Rape the weather kill the falling air

Heat the ice

Melt the zones

And it all boils down to not enough

Splitting empty inside of love

Finding it nowhere

Yearning to suck at the tit while

Strangling the Madonna smile



Courting only bottles of amber and packs of smoke

Cut the throats of them as cards

Snorting white, inhaling the burn

And sporting chrome wheels that turn endlessly