A discerningly keen basset hound
Watches TV when no one’s around
He surfs the remote
without taking a vote
until The Dog Planet can be found
1/13/22
An off-day for the quill: I’m channel surfing
from a carpeted beach beneath beveled
canopy. My legs haplessly dangle flung
overboard crossing a comfortable
black leather partition provided by Sears.
On CNN there’s a bow legged French horn
wearing white face apologizing for American
abundance above the ticking measures
of Cold War success. Spare me, Christiane.
Thirsty, I have the maid fetch me a fresh Coke
and resume my voyeuristic voyage downstream
through high-definition static and spoken
saturation. Eddie Cummings flips a knowing wink
then sweeps the tulips from a chimney’s dream.
4/27/17
I can be
so pissed off
that I can scream
like a bra
put on backwards.
Evil exists, even
though politically correct
no-minds say otherwise.
I know it exists.
I feel it slithering
around me like
a sea shell broken
into fragments of
something remembered.
We seem to share
a ****ed up world
of underwear wearing
parrots
bleating like retards
at the channel surfing
drones forever
feeding their
fat faces.
I stand at
exactly the same place
where I was previously lost,
and still
am not able to
identify the
heart-burn that
hops like a frog
inside my
concious being.
Days begin.
Days end.
I continue screaming
in the vain hope
that somewhere some ear
On countrysides animal scurry along, leaving footprints
In the carbonized material of this planet.
Channel surfing & empty ink pens,
Pepsi & wadded up candy wrappers
All over the house remannts of LIFE
Breathing all over us.
LIFE moves over us like a rapist in some dark room
We somehow forgot about
In the brightest hours;
It leaves footprints
In the carbonized material of this skin.
Passing through streets burning with loneliness & boredom;
Sometime I often wonder about the perplexity
All of it stains upon our memory.
Midst preposterous pink & turquoise blue color
Our LIFE begins to petal,
slightly bruised.
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