FRIENDICOOTS,
Here is the 3rd & final installment of the Epic Poembomb 2011. I read this one at The Tea House & everyone clapped & said "Tell us how you really feel."
****************
THE EPIC EPILOGUE
Who told me life was 80%
Maintenance 50% Interruption?
That those apportioned moments warp
In and out of your schedule like bits of music
Trying to be a song
Time's infrastructure crumbles if you
Look too close, plan too far in advance but
Sit quiet at the red light and it springs back
A covalent bond between you and
Your paycheck,
A broken synapse between knowing & understanding
God's currency wadded up in your brain
The winnings from your corporal slot machine
Concentric lemons, interrupted by bells
Let's talk about the maintenance of time
That isn't obliged to children, boss, bathroom, lawn
That bony outstretched serpent
Atomic invisible vertebrae owned by
Your DNA birthright estate
Patrolled by no skin degree or bracket of age
Trap this treasure in your photographic cache
To grow wise w/out TV
To show your mugshots on the hour
You killed not only time but the weather
News of Ghadaffi breaking, his symphonic regime
Warping to a close
His lips loose and bleeding from the puppets' felt/ after birthing
Never sewn up
Oh, fall like a tree dying of thirst from your bookshelf
Fly like a personal playstation prostitute to your next level of karma
Quit interrupting my neutral swatches of gambling time
My ears riddled with whole ringtones
Your eyes shut against the drone of clouds
Quit interrupting my well-manicured lawn
With mass hysteria/ You can't get 6 billion heads to turn
In heliotropic unison
So go there alone
Far from the light through East Village NY
Past post-apocalypse West Coast, beyond dystopian Yemen
And Syria yearning for cooler colors
Into aeropausal orbit where the
Trash hasn't been collected yet
Into black holes' opiate entry wounds and out
Like buck shot into the hide of your computer
Right where you left your light
In that hedonistic port
Your liver staring at the screen
Your pancreas a submarine
Fingers married to opinion in anonymous
Mommas' boy ceremony
Open scissor /put a ring on and it's no longer
A torture device
You can run with it /you can cut the cord
Unplug the mindless conductor
Who shouts "All Aboard!"
And the desperate texters disobey
Leave three car lengths at the light,
Engineer Joe getting heart broken on his phone
But no one's eye contacts another
More passengers died on this keyboard
Than icy rails or trainsick stop motion
First world intersections
Secretary Clinton can't shovel the mess alone--
She leads me to the TV w/ her post surgical eye bags
This is the view she chooses for me
Her spaced-out medicated gaze
Introduces me to a slow drip of images
A ship turning 'round on choppy poison seas
A silence of dial tone on eternal hold, sloppy voice-printed
Admissions of indifference
Such diverse global movers & shakers
Join hands on Facebook
To maintain an innocent profile
With anti-social enemy media
The nerve to leave a paper plastic perjury
Trail
2*28*11
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