Empty Clips

Can you hear the drip?
That thunderous drip
that rips from the mists
and trickles from parched lips
the drip, the drip, the random hits
of power, pills, and prophecy

Can you see the drip?
the warriors, and the pimps
the homeless and their limps
that sit at the bottom of sunken ships
pieces of golden triangles
and the fragments of parchments ripped
from the headlines, head cases
and the God we all miss

Can you paint the drip?
the eagles and the empty clips
that belonged to guns and sons
that ran so far, and came up so short
the drip, the drip, the winnings and the chips
while angels and demons continued to flip

Can you hear the drip?
the gifted and the hearts of wimps
blasted into the atmosphere on the backs
of space shuttles and personal troubles
reflected in ancient herbs and surreal trips
built into fossilized bone and plastic hips

The drip, the drip, the legacies we have equipped

Fin