Wednesday, July 8, 2015

poem of the day 07.08.15

the jared fogle blues

it’s all bad
it’s all a horror show
from birth until death
ask the cab driver
ask your dentist
ask the pitchman peddling kiddie porn
or ask the librarian playing on facebook
for the new york times
then read it for yourself and weep
if i tell you i won’t lie to you
you wouldn’t believe me anyway
because i’m the american myth when i stand naked and true
but, kid, life is only glimmers of softness
in this unendurable rough
truthfully i wish i’d been smarter back then
twenty-two, twenty-three years ago
before the noose tightened on my verve and idealism
when i could piss away my life like nobody’s business
i wish my old man had told me
what a holy terror it was out there scrapping for a dollar
instead of coming home tired from a late bus and crap job
a can of beer or two and the nightly news
but what then?
what would i have done with that knowledge
except eventually assimilate into the grind?
so i tell you it’s all bad to try and save you
find some alternative, child
because life is a wreck of a wreck
heaped upon a dung pile of disappointment and pain
and watching little kids grow up just makes me sad
all the misery and debt they’ll inherit
all the death and destruction
all the senseless, needless violence
all the watered down drinks on lonely nights in this abyss
just to cope so we can get up and do it all again
i tell you it’s all bad
it’s so so bad
it’s all a horror show to the tenth degree
find your way out of this madness now
before we’re both two walking suicides
lumps of flesh eating salad in florescent tombs
clocking in and clocking out
unable to look each other in the eye.

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