Archive for February 15th, 2011
Stick me dead.
stick me dead.
You say whoops.
Smiles and geniality.
Inquiry, eyeballs blazing
over slightly-fallen glasses.
plastic rimples from smiles.
I feel his disdain.
This one is for One Shot Wednesday, though here I sit on Tuesday, far too late! Go check out the fabulous folks!
Mics with Earphones,
Snake oil for sure.
Why do we have modern snake oil?
So many of them,
and so many fools.
I belong (with the fools) and join with mouth open.
Carpet is false and unhelpful and disgusting blue.
Some windows are totally fucked,
but everyone sells windows.
I already have windows. How sick is that?
We watch the snake oil
goozey-goozey straight for the Great Gray Ceiling.
A chapel absorbing the slickness of insanity.
So many windows.
And hot tubs like Lincoln Continental limos.
A bag of ten nuts for ten bucks,
covered in sugar and other shit.
Everybody watching, watching, watching.
Dreaming in temporary land.
Watching money slide away like oil on skin.
Watching names and addresses and phone numbers
creep slickly to the snake oil guys.
Snake oil guys who try to love the voyeurs
more than they love themselves but can’t.
Everything so temporary,
but here, disintegrating as if on fast-forward,
even the Great Gray Ceiling.
Waters with docile waves,
but no push,
how you stand,
only sense movement.
Big brain sweeps energies
adrenaline pumps and throttles.
What will Mother do?
Calm the waves.
No bubbles, no white,
gentle clarity pushes
Standing with flow.
Life should go with this.
Blood saps the rough edges,
undisturbed, waiting to break,
Small brain surrenders.