Wednesday, March 30, 2011

poem of the day 03.30.11

all of this and nothing too

there is all of this
and nothing too
some of us have everything
the decent job
the stocked fridge
the liquor cabinet under lock and key
while others of us
can’t get the kitchen light to work

there is all of this
and nothing too
genetically modified fruits
and chickens on steroids
no fly zones over our hearts
dictators who make us all aflutter
and too much love to be found
around the corner

there is all of this
and nothing too
the everlasting winter
the anticipated spring
the fat cat on the bed licking her paws
from a good meal
while old women dig through the trash
for used up budweiser bottles

there is all of this
and nothing too
the clich├ęd poem repeating lines
for effect
because the poet has nothing real
to write about
no flame in his gut
to pass the time between rejection
and bouts with flash fiction

nothing for anyone to care about
except how the tv season will end
or when major league baseball is going to start

all of this and nothing too

like million dollar planes stuck in neutral
and lottery tickets unclaimed
picassos hanging on bare walls
in some actress’ home

van gogh’s ear found in a brown field
under calm skies of azure
thrown away by some whore who couldn’t
comprehend genius

all of this

backdoor politicians hocking change
and calling it compromise

there is nothing

but exotic women with bad breath
telling you fairy tales
from their bar stools of misery
hoping for a free drink

there is all of this
like silence in cold air
being the only one on a new york street
who has gone completely mad

there is all of this and nothing too
chlorinated summers of doom
the waiting grave
radioactive rain being pushed on cable news
movies of merit with the thickness of toilet paper
and that neighbor whom you have
to get back at
when he least expects it

there is all of this
there is nothing

but your old college heart
torn away by the gentrified trip down memory lane
the faces from the past suddenly fat and dull
unrecognizable but for their scent
the rocket talk suddenly exploding over the
nuclear night sky
the old best meal gone bland
and the salt shaker lost to posterity

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