where would we go post our poems
now that apocalypse is all the rage
dystopian randiness is
the handy toolset of slow groomed
I don't give a fuck ...
and this has all come to fruition
with opposite or anti intuition
and the movie we're set in
might as well be called 'it's forever the 1980's'
as the 'Night of The Comet' was
already taken by a campy morality play
about turning folks
into anger zombies
after they were exposed
to a passing celestial event
becoming piles of red dust and salt
Lot's wife cried there will be great floods
and more fires are coming
humanity will have been softened by indulgence
and shallow emotion-ality by the time
you realize now has passed again
myself I've included in this fun-house-d bliss
occluded eluded perspective the elective
is in ignoring pain to be free to gain some sense
of it all but I as I suspect we, fall anyways every way
and say that it is not our fault ...
who am I kidding though
I was a skidding before show business
was believing in being on a vogue train
so here I am another son of sam
bitching 'bout itches and riches flam
talking to my dog blaming demons again
when we went about
that out door
never once did I recall
how much Love left
both of us
without a way
divide and conquer, swell the coffers ...
heavy metal accretion on
chromosomes meant to fight illness turned into
death squads disguised as pollyannas ...
and nary a phone booth left here
or across the pond ... soup or man ...
eat the young and the old, do what you're told
and go to church on any holy day
you can make a contribution in blood,
bones and those articulation
of excuses we seem to have for a life ...
outside there are black helicopters swoosh buzzing over
the mountains of war monkey savior-ing
I like my cheese curds fried with hot sauce, don't you?
raw ready meat ground
worm food and let's go
anti christian anti jewish anti muslim anti human
anti atheist anti pagan anti ancient anti future anti oasis
anti past anti present anti love anti gravity anti reality anti pop songs
choral jockeys and sewn doll nymphettes with good dance moves
have cgi enhanced body parts meant to make us jealous
with a lingering feeling of not quite good enough
for tv so you better get a vocation before you attempt to breed
with your plastic lover reflection of self in paper doll remarks ...
hew haw and the love boat were secret message couriers
they rode radio waves along low slung highways
of guide wired pulpit pleasers with greasy well combed hair
outside the stain of glass housing there was
quasi crystal propulsion systemic analysis
in the chemtrail-microwave convenience stoner munchie justice
well, as the old folk canons go
the white zone is for the viral load out
and while it shouldn't kill too many
we'll have a clean genetic stock
and less mouths to feed when completed ...
now it's boots on and into the Earth
we'll learn, finding bloody stool and rains
is the new normal, I eat glass don't you?