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Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts

Monday

Operation: “Shopping”…Or, A Middle-Class Version Of Scorched Earth Politics

Storm the castle
Plant the flag in softened, well-trodden dirt
Shop at the ramparts super-store
Grease the tank wheels
Roll over everyone
Keep progressing, moving forward
With slow, mannered precision
Lock step, eyes fixed
Well-covered and camouflaged
Might hidden from sight
Out flanking, out ranking
Without questioning, orders followed
Mission accomplished with minimal collateral damage
Greater goods and services rendered
Civilian living in a boutique war zone
Gentrifying armies
Just enough clicks away to be considered soft targets
Entrenched in bunkered cubicles
Manning cockpit cash registers
With pilotless drones set loose in shopping malls
A focus group enemy of the state
Buying and selling each other’s secrets
Honorably discharged
Into a bloated wallet
Faces flushed and covered with consumer scars
This is living large in an age of large living
This is today being lived in yesteryear
No purchase will bring it back
Storm the castle
                                                                            Repeat... 

Wednesday

I’m A Terrible Writer

I’m a terrible writer
A truly gifted and inspired terrible
A terror in every sense of the word
I spit words out
Choke words back
Spend them meaninglessly
Without care
Without concern for meaning
Context
Spelling
Usage
A more terrible writer has never existed
My words populate this page like drifters
Two-bit hustlers
Searching for meaning in
Definitions
Syntax
Punctuation
I type in an effort to relate thoughts that are disingenuine
Uninteresting
Staid
Tired
Boring
I’m a schill for a language I would prefer not to speak
I tell stories I have no interest in telling
I tell them badly
Falsely
Redundantly
Sanctimoniously
I write because I think I should, not because I’m compelled to
I write because it’s never easy and that makes it seem noble
Makes me a fraud
A charlatan
A blowhard
Blowing words out of my fingertips like an oversexed manqué
A plastic shell meant to resemble something
But hollow all the way through
Empty
A voidoid
Another tantrum with nothing behind it
Nothing important to say
I’m a terrible writer
I write everyday