FIRST LINE FROM STEPHEN CRANE'S "RED BADGE"

The tattered man shrank back abashed
afraid that the gospel of hosts, the spiel
of spite directed towards the exploding gentry
were not a wall of ammunition but a colossus of speakers

Come alive, at the beck, of a villager with meager dowry
who comes to realize the extreme good fortune, the Fortuna
of a grove near the river, a surge protector fortified
with the doctrine of a mortar landed from outer space

The villagers threw out their chocolate because decadence
feeds on the brine of the stratosphere; they knelt and thought
a species of kelp that grows from all the colors except
India ink, Two-Tone Chloroform, Brackish Turpentine
and flat Jolt Cola (minus carbonation, of course!)

And now when I close my ears off to the city, when
I wade in ipod embolism audio conflation booster seat
I swear I can hear them villagers kneeling in silent asking
and it sounds like Chaka Demus and Pliers or Spragga Benz!