The Wingers
one points the finger at the other
telling it that it knows all about what
s/he stands for & on this side
the winger states all the aspects of her/his
parameters & the details, suggestions &
manufactured ways of understanding all
add up to a perfect little box
which only changes when the greater group
says so.
marching in line behind the rest
one winger stares across the way at its
opposite &
with all its ideas & views stuffed in its head it
assumes a
crystal clear focus
having rehearsed all its slogans
having agreed upon all its poses
having put on its lip balm to start
kissing ass all across the board
smiling for the pictures
hugging the babies &
when asked question after question
the winger responds appropriately
with no real thought of her/his own
stating all the things about what they read or what they were told to
say when confronted by
the
machine.
churning, spinning, churning &
make-believing to themselves that there is something
so different about them from those other humans who
don’t believe what it is that they do
or at least pretend to believe---
the wingers define themselves by the
convictions corresponding to the rungs of whatever ladder they are
attempting to
climb &
they are all
just a few blowjobs away from
becoming
immaculate
idiots.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
