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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required (for Jon Accomando) mine was the last generation to be spanked. sensuous and real, w/ corporal punishment— at least you felt something. sadly, it too has been corrupted. in the new violence no one raises a hand— eyebrows and whispers, an errant son reclaimed? “fr yr own good. for your own.” i am somebody’s son. no. i am in the living room, barely. the remote in johnny’s hand, an extension? new american phallus, contoured to fit your palm. push the button. change the channel. roll over and fall asleep. it’s all been said, done. it’s the weight of history that crushes us. maybe a.d.d. will cure us of our inertia. maybe. maybe is democracy in ashes. no. the cat is sleeping, quietly by the fire. i remember envying him once; a quiet life, pins and needles— i was born for. the cat is neutered. he spends more time licking himself now, and he’s grown fat. we’re not so different really. i am willing the embers from the fire in his direction. i asked johnny once, “if you could make the world anew, shinny and perfect...” his face lights up in anticipation. a million abstractions, he’s been waiting all his life. “what would you keep the same?” he doesn’t know. “Television. I would keep Television.” my face is gently bashed in. oh, mild america... one day, when the oil runs out and the apartment buildings reach the sky things will change, they have to. where there was silence—whispers. a fast talker now a lisper. whisper down the cities. shudder down the buildings. man’s love, man’s work- is made worthless. we’ve been pissing and moaning so long that it’s coming out screams and yawns. no. blessed! we are blessed! w/ suffering and desire. w/ big macs and rubbing thighs. w/ quiet eyes and shaky hands. w/ heartache and lone. w/ genitals in my coffee. w/ 10,000 thoughts in my pockets. the simulacra of the ‘good life’ is a pacifier. i’ve had enough. no. no. no. no. no. no. in the living room i am empowered. i have willed an ember from the fire onto the cat. kindly he remains asleep. i told johnny “the cat is on fire.” johnny nodded. the cat continued to burn.
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