Wednesday, February 29, 2012

poem of the day 02.29.12


a serious man
catholic vanguard
a kennedy puke scholar
with his grandfatherly sleeveless sweaters
his grandfatherly ideas

ideas like the mixture
of shit and anal lubricant

a confident man
the consummate insider
sinister self-assured smile of the righteous
eyes like something out
of a sinclair lewis novel

when i was a kid he had placards placed
all over pennsylvania
and half of the fun was kicking them over

a family man
see the vaseline smiles
on the vaseline television
the vaseline ideals for the vaseline nation
starving rhetoric with a dusty halo and tattered wings

a contrast of ideas
swirling in his cereal bowl of wit

a real live richard
a gang of seven iconoclast
scheming and then living the dream
intelligent in his design
an evolutionary fiend

a rocky balboa for the ignorant

ideas like the mixture
of shit and anal lubricant

Friday, February 3, 2012

poem of the day 02.03.12


they come along
sucking blood, sucking blood

in dark brand named suits
in dark designer skirts

with pale made-up clown faces
and crimson devil lips

they come along
gurgling their draconian laws
and their half-assed policies

they come along
with clipboards and pink slips
tossing flaccid paychecks
to help quell the loss of precious time

those lousy cocksuckers
with quotas and agendas

with the upper hand
on what’s right and wrong

they’ve come along to time your lunch
to monitor your bandwidth and bathroom breaks

those megalomaniac control freaks
who hang by their webbed feet in the black sunlight

the movers and shakers
of their little bitter world

shaking fragile autonomy
and pride down to its hollow core

leaving the fear to well up
on lost and angry weekends of anxious drama

making or breaking a life

hanging souls by their 401k
hanging souls by their rotten pension
hanging souls by the noose
hanging souls by the balls because they can

rotting ones liver and life

they come along
sucking blood ,sucking blood

until retirement or death comes first

until the marrow is gray and lifeless
on the brittle bones

the once-solid mind a sieve
drip-bleeding the wasted years at their service

those privileged pissy few
those spineless slugs offering no mercy

those fucking vampires
that no stake or garlic can harm

with their reserved parking spots
five weeks vacation paid every fiscal year

and a smile
across a metal desk
that could charm a snake
and kill a soul