CAMELOT FANTASIES

i am the Ghosts in your speakers
drowned in the bedlam
of the young ones
who, in time, consumed us,
as will one day
be consumed by something,
perhaps, much worse.
more pandemonium.

i am the Ghosts in your speakers
dying every day, day to day,
through your workday,
by requests from nowhere special
or by the hands of man,
the only god i can ever know
but only if the frequency
is just right.

i am the Ghosts in your speakers
never chanting the same
when i was the first time
all for you, naked yet free,
before the holes put in my body
by politicians and mothers
feeling true to convictions
to protect you.

i am the Ghosts in your speakers
shaking my head in shame
towards my lost children
radiating from television tabernacles,
for they offer little more than
blasphemy by total request
and stairways to nowhere.
how we lost our way.

i am the Ghosts in your speakers
silently screaming,
“Rock is dying,
and the Blues are dead…”