Monday, February 29, 2016

Idiot Poet

Quasimodo poet, humping words to bludgeon
the inert hordes electroelocuting themselves,
that need to be put out of their ecstasy, that need
a good run away truck in their faces, since it seems
senseless slaughter is not strong enough media
medicine to jar these jar heads into the truth.

What makes me the boss? I'll tell you, sonny:
because I didn't even believe my brain poached
dad, a very good man, who believed in America
when America was already on the path of 
manifest manipulation destiny enslavement that
you don't even need to scratch the surface now
to see! Common Core? Biggest oxymoron! 
Orwell was prescient like an old testament 
prophet! No one believes in God anymore, 
because His promise is trumped by the triumph 
of Facebook! Apocalypse of Apple! Moloch of 
Macintosh!  Twittering mobs from Hell sucking 
souls senseless! People afraid of trees, a walk 
in nature without headphones, a moment of 
silent stillness sitting park benched! I remember 
New York hitchhikers fearful of driving through 
a forest at night! They'd never seen a cow! 

In Mexico, when I had to renew my lease for my
house. the landlord came over with a translator, 
his wife, his two sons, another cousin and two 
dogs. They drank beer, we ate guacamole, we
talked for three hours. When I brought up the 
lease, they said they weren't raising the rent 
because now I was part of their family, and they
were glad to have me there! Simon 
Legreelessness! Why would I ever want to move
back to my Lost America? I don't! I won't!
Sauve qui peut!


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