Blog Archive

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Here's a NEW POEM

Ladyshark pieces color the ocean red where the sea meats the sky
And we draw our silk blouses tight to the throat
And drink warm milk while the piano lights up the room
And what were those fucking lessons for
I've never had an experience with music

Let's not talk
Let's not talk anymore
About anything
Ever

I'm done feeling sorry for myself
Starting tomorrow if I'm still here
And I'm going to get on board
And I'm going to sell
Sell
Sell

And the money will come
And I'll have a new piano
And I can really concentrate
On my hobby

But what has any of us done to get things done
Before this

Not Much

And so now, at this late hour, you're going to get in the game
Suit up
You need to smile more if you want to get on the field
The cameras are rolling
And those frowns aren't paying the bills, buddy

If you want to go eat bugs and worms sit in your own shit all day, be my guest
But not on my dime

MY DIME

My dime: the one that owned land before you were born
My dime: the one that tells you where you can't be
My dime: the one that says you have to work for me if you want the Dr. to sew your finger back on
My dime: Whose breast is a cannibal dynamo

Yes, we've talked about this before
But now we really mean it

How long until I can quit?
The French just added another six years
And America is worried its old people are living too long

Did I hear myself right?

America
Is worried
Its Old People
Are living too long

And we work for the least of us
Because that's who's the boss
And that's who sells your life back to you
On TV

And iPods
And cell phones
And in cars and trucks
To get to work

And apartments so cheap
We can live on what they're paying us

Not homes
No gardens
No dogs, don't even think about horses
Not real dogs, just little special dogs
Bread to be tinier than nature would allow
To live
In little boxes made of plastic
Inside of bigger little boxes made of sheetrock
And painted with plastic
And counters made of plastic
And wood that stinks of the glue holding its tiny particles together
And a stove that gets hot on electricity
And a plastic bath tub and a plastic sink
And a plastic floor
And a carpet made of tiny fibers of plastic
Held onto a grid of plastic with plastic glue
And all the windows
Made of glass
In sills caulked with plastic
Seal off the world that made me

If you can't get out, the only thing to do
Is find a way deeper in

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