Boob Jobs and Bomb Jobs
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I am quite sure, that this poem is provocative and the content is debatable no doubt. Since I do not know any of you poetry soup consumers, none of what I am putting into the ether is meant in a personal manner.
Yes and speaking with Freud in phallic hand, my ex went to Harley Street, before she ran for divorce and 'ran for her money'.
Long live poetic licence.
Boob jobs and bomb jobs
Sisters in arms those **** and those weapons of massive
destruction sex and death go together in dynamics
thermodynamics psychodynamics fused on the playground
of this life of this poem on which I’m allowed to feel strong
and weak just the same at the same time or other places of mind
Not unlike the bombers and boobers maybe who view bosoms
and blow-up jobs as signs of strength and maturity feeling free
when desperate signs and times should call for desperate
measures action not words not boob bomb bust enhancement
In the theatre of our thoughts on the surgical table in the
euphemistic dramaturgy of holocaustic warfare and precise
incisive operations bright neon lights cover up the darkness
inside of us inside the vast realms of consumption consuming
hypocrisy perversion envy and so they may shine spotlights
on the difference and the differences in equality and opinion
Plastic **** and erect stand up nipples tucked tummies botoxed
facial facades oozed from shiny scalpels steeled galvanised armour
represent our swollen clitoral phalluses of meagre mindlessness
Skins consume the charioteers the chatelaines and prostitutes
of commerce for a brighter future advocate by proxy exterminations
those genocides killing humanity life dignity blinded by the shadow’s light
Some tighten their skins some cannot save their skins are skinned alive
when bloodstained medals shine purple hearts onto misguided proud
uniformed chests tummy in chest out in the Forces and by the surgeons decree
Breast enhancements cost money and so do wars and destruction or do
they not really let stocks and shares soar to the sky and generate the wishes
for bigger larger more swollen Egos portfolios milky glands so oiled in war
Is the military-industrial complex not that busting panacea and miracle mirage
so that gold grows on trees and wallets explode could it be prudent to recall
from psychology the inferiority complex that drives so much of human pathology
One hand feeds the other and would there be bombs without the need to
enhance bosoms would there be boob jobs without the blood money of
colluding wars some might declare that both bosoms and warfare are
sexy quite shiny and glitzy rather titillating instruments in the same process
They both shine coeval disorientation loss of balance somewhat
round at the edges but ragged inside both straight in your groin
and face and rather elusive of what lies underneath under cover
Engraved in collateral destruction and fake posturing ablated
breasts by shrapnel enhanced disguise with surgical prescription
and precision the drooling drones and clones of our times preside
over boobs blood guts and gore and they camouflage destruct
sponsored by bankers and bonkers and the paradigm of greed
The grim reaper measures she harvests beauty’s bounty
glory masquerades mascara sexes up destruction regresses
resembles yields economic satisfaction in glossy brochures
in air raids shelters of the flights of fancy with yet another zealous
strike or flash into the vanity’s heart of cosmetic deal ordeal denial
Glistening scorched muted veils and cover-ups portray shabbiness
on the money sided square of that equation at the broken circles
radiating from across the chest the mammal glands the treasures
of one world and then another linked by world view of so called
progress science security fuelled engrossed and disembowelled
by capitalism’s deepening depressing and depressed rewards
Decomposing human flesh and matter under grave grave yards
over grave yards on the poorer spewed out holographic consequence
of madness **** **** up on minds and hollow shallowness wrinkles
simmer into the lime light’s trenches when juxtaposed with tummy tucks
It’s a glitzy world some cannot want not see for gorged out eye balls
for the insane sanitation the two sided Janus headed perpetrating
divisive and bank rolled monsters in greedy shiny suits and shameless armour
Glitz boobs bombs and capitalism come with decisions and a price to pay
conscience wealth poverty arrogance impotence lost perspective hedonism
liberation indoctrination and they go along come with quite some heavy burden
Enlarged tissues and options for choice big small healthy dying decomposing
compassion feed the system tucked in swollen malnourished hungry scabby
tummies lifted faces screams in horror for some basic justice charity on
the other side of raving medal metal incision exclusion and provocation
24th July 2016
Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2016
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