Ad Nauseam
Sunshine grows men on ropes
Similar with metaphors and similes
And cold plastic smiles.
Slim, shiny, at first slimy, Then…
Then mass produced body index
Fat and hypertension deficit syndrome-o-matic.
Failure due to faulty, underfunded, cheap union labor parts.
Broken and glued
taped back
to the semi-flaccid meat bag’s parts
Ad nauseam,
But worth regurgitating
for the sake of curiosity’s infinite lives.
Will you spare a tired old man a dozen redbirds?
All dead and empty.
Ad nauseam.
Entering ourselves head first, strong
Into the green-blue gluttonous mausoleum nausoleum
With fancy golden embryo.
Embryo cold ,
with teeth chattering loose,
Broken from gnawing the misconceived development
Of a prenatal worm-child.
The background was aforementioned “Thus”.
Inter-missionary positions
on all seeing eyed pyramids
Connect myriads of the labyrinth.
Run for cover before the light breaks the shadow fault line
Of what is right and what is written
Because I can’t bear to tell you what is wrong.
Sunshine grows ropes on men
different from the same old, same old.
Mad at the world because like opinions and ideas and optimism
And a general surety of a done deal.
Nothing is relative to Uncle Certain.
Just Aunt Be.
Hollow minds can only feed hollow stomachs
From the, “Why did they even come here?”
Go back home to your party fanciful.
If you think it’s you then why are you still here
Under the tree that shades us from falling
Birthmark razorblade sweet tarts.
It all starts over and over.
Copyright © Lloyd J Bonds | Year Posted 2015
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