Analysis of Rant

Absurdity ad absurdum has taken up a comfortable
 residence among us as a statuesque whore
 becoming prominent and remarkably affordable
 strolling the homeland devoted to minding the store.
 She flaunts charms showing alabaster cheek
 in the tolerant venues fascinated with the risk
 of challenging her dark mind, her bleak
 assessment of our intellect recorded on disk,
 the feeble articulations professing a way of life
 muted by the din of thunder crashing between rank
 electrodes planted in her brain superbly rife
 with logic we can take to an FDIC member bank
 reducing thought to sophomoric debate asserting that this
 causes that and therefore a need to grope
 through a blood bath hit and miss
 grasping at ruts on a slippery slope.
 She directs agendas cracking a sparking whip
 as a scantily clad dominatrix to the brink,
 shooting tart rebuttals quickly from the hip
 to criticism and query with a sultry wink,
 she thrives in the false poet's vexatious verse
 masquerading her as brilliance for mad adulation,
 and applause for insanity or for something worse
 lurking in shadows growing longer throughout the nation.
 She is ratified with the silence of fatigue
 over ATM fees, arbitrary phone bills,
 sophistic menus of recorded messages, intrigue
 involving all relationships being a test of wills
 driving days laced with lottery chances to get rich,
 and years piling on like fossilized diatoms
 enjoyed as bites of a peanut butter sandwich.
 She is magnified by the outrageous pogroms
 perpetrated upon our public schools,
 Columbine, Johesboro, Amish School at Nickel Mines,
 contributing to the creation of more stringent rules
 of conduct in the daily functions at living shrines.
 She haunts mosaic T.V. screens drenched in glamour
 as new chapters of her endless story unfold,
 we will her icon to shed its angelic torpor
 and speak the name of her killer in a case gone cold
 but she just gazes at us innocent as a posy
 once in a while a haunting seeking peace
 and we look into the sad eyes of Jon Binet Ramsey
 wondering if atrocities will ever cease.
 She is celebrated with the piercing of tongues, lips
 eyebrows, belly buttons, breasts, noses
 and anatomical platforms below the hips,
 art finding the body relieved of striking heroic poses.
 She inhabits an exclusive comfort zone
 reserved for SUV devotees in a cul de sac trance
 discussing Bary Bonds' chances for the home run throne
 and barbequing ribs to digest a credit card balance.
 She is immune to the labor of the rational mind
 to discharge words stuck in the constricted throat
 like unclaimed luggage not likely to find
 its way across the sea in the appropriate boat.
 The mind is feverish, tired and weak
 keeping up with the Secretary of the Treasury bailing out
 America. We want to speak, speak, speak
 in a virtual reality. We want to shout, shout, shout
 the cogent words that would strike down
 the incompetence, fraud, legal fictions, the lies
 where words fall on corroded ears, drawing a sneer
 or whimsical smile as a thought is swarmed by sighs
 of the technocratic cadres "moving forward" without fear
 of cataclysmic consequences, the ranting of doomsayers.
 The market always comes back three hundred points
 in spite of nose dives into deep realms bringing prayers
 to the table among the deals straining at the joints.
 But words must be found in the hopeless din
 driven by Absurdity -- simple words that won't miss
 their mark crushing Absurdity and her devoted kin
 venting madness on the brink of the abyss.