Monday, March 9, 2015

poem of the day 03.09.15

young women at the symphony

tchaikovsky is no match
for the lure of cell phone light
status updates and the ubiquitous selfie

he doesn’t hold a candle
to the gleaming shining presence of the now

it comes with the territory of being dead

not even two visits from the usher
is enough to stop you
from chattering in between each movement of the fourth

coming on the heels
of destroying one by gabriel faure

yes, sweet young ladies,
all of the looks over the shoulders are for you

it doesn’t matter if most of the audience
looks just like the walking dead

a sea of pasty, white haired corpses

maybe it shouldn’t matter anyway
everything is silly if you think about it

tchaikovsky was a head case
and  in no time the world will be yours
to forget all about him if you like

so when the music ends
no needs to get up to applaud

just whip out the phones
young heirs to this crooked and wasted empire

snap, snap snap away
until your lion heart’s content


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