Luyện nghe bài hát Lotus Gait

I have this nightmare:
pigeon, her broken feet
frozen solid to the pavement.
I away as if I do not see.

I have this memory
of my old man screaming from the seat
to turn from an unfolding horror,
but he not undo what I had seen.

We never of it again.
Two more citizens of
the new post-traumatic stress disorder.

A stockholm fifth estate,
desperate to batten the mounting horrors
and shuffle on in a global gait.

Content to
in the plasma of the
home entertainment we
commune like dime-store shrines.
Are but votive lives?

A strangled, truss
shores-up each of us.
Anything to dull the
of a splintered gait.

As for me a filigree of psychic tape
to cordon-off the darker scenes.
But the wandering stumbles through it
and them all eventually.
Pries open wide your
and a painful light
on the guilt, the fear, the shame.

The courage never
from the glow of the
home prisons we
to like dime-store shrines.
Are these but votive

at heart.
A conformist the start.
A syndrome fifth estate.
A staggering gait.

Its a strangled, twisted
shores-up each of us.
So to dull the pain
of a self-inflicted, crippling gait.