It will forlorn the final take.
When the skit is over, and I need a drink.
You take me to a hole to think,
and I in turn, tell you what's to come.
When you toss me down some black-bat-rum.
Like a Folgers coffee break
It holds my arm, and the shake.
Let's savor in my chagrin-grin.
A final tote.
Add it to your collection.
Right next to my recollection.
She's a woman whose legs take flight.
A hole that cries "why?" to my sigh.
Let me put the why in your day.
Within that speech, I'll have much to say
I know you sit in silence,
at least twice-a-day wondering.
Pondering how we can go to the moon,
but turn our backs on starving neighbors.
Billions of dollars lay aimlessly about;
as Imperial trophies for the well-bred.
Yet we know not our species.
Nor respect this uncontrolled experiment.
Pushing instead on and away from one another.
Every individual reaching for a chunk, a slice.
Bitchin' endlessly about the price.
Weren't they the ones on the K-mart microphone -
Announcing the current blue-light-special?
Here... Take my advice.
Down shift, slow down.
Look around, hear choice sounds.
Place your ear against the ground, meet.
Listen to your mothers heartbeat, found.
Weakening, lurching, faltering, gorged.
Shrug your shoulders, and piss in the corner.
Where you eat, sleep, soap-up, reap.
Your soul shaker screaming from rotting carcass.
Every night in your slumber.
Chained steadfast to that sold lumber.
Self-destructive ego, interpreting -
- The big 'look at me'.
Already broken and adapted to the obvious.
Your own death is waiting hands folded.
Like some unopened can of artichokes.
Hiding in the back corner of your fridge.
Pay your power bill to keep it cold & fresh.
Don't pay, and watch it swell with the bad can blues
Seeking you out to lay its stench proper
Cross your being, backwards, and forwards.
Within our intellects
Flounder primitive instincts
We just choose to lie ourselves asleep
Over, and over, again
Why,
Because we use toilet paper?
Because we have MTV!
Or maybe it’s just McDonalds.
Symbolism haunts our daily observations.
The twisting of reality begins with the naming
of objects surrounding us from birth, by them.
What's your name?
Blind and oblivious.
Three monkeys doing face innuendos.
See no
Hear no
Smell no
Disco light hoopla
Play-doe barber shops
I could sit here forever
Not thinking.
Perfectly,
Monster cropped,
and edged to promote
Growth; then not
move a wink.
Author notes
#2
Written September 1st, 2004
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Last month
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That pic is adorable. What beautiful little boys. When was the pic taken?
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Very interesing poem, filled with funny images and intriguing questions. I especially liked the last stanza, lol, almost like everything that's happened, just fucking sit there and take it all in at your leisure, lol. But really, even without some minor editing, I found it be a really great piece.
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such a great picture! it's a really good poem. I enjoyed this. I am with you! no bush!!!!
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You could have the last stanza and I would happily think this is the bestest poem ever. lol. It was creative, it made me ponder (which is extremely difficult to do at this late hour), and I must say, I dig the picture.
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he has my dad's eyes
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im kinda moved, in that, it moved slowly in my head, like whiskey in a glass, that you can smell, and where the smell lingers on your tongue even before you've had a sip.
it's good, and your son has gorgeous eyes.
N... -
Mum must be a fine looking woman! I loved that
David -
This was a strange poem indeed. This is good! Anyway, wonderful job and thanks for entering!
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awwwww .see I love it.. that you can write absurd poetry.. yet have those two gorgeous boys... I'ma not understanding.. how genes do this.. harrmuummmphh.. lmao.. oohh well.. there daddy is a purrddy boy... smashed outta his knicks sometimes and stoned as plums.. but we love him all the same.
~GILL~
It's the Boll Weevil song... lookin' for a hommeeee lookin' for a hoommmeee .. a real hot home... -
Yeah, it's about 10 years old actually, and still needs a shaving.
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while this obviously needs to be edited at this point...it is fascinating.
this, in particular, made me laugh out loud....
Like some unopened jar of artichokes.
Hiding in the back corner of your fridge.
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hahahahah. i can't either, as I am also a felon. Hey, I sent you an email. Let me know if you get it...as i am unsure of having your correct address.
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