You’ve got to swing your hips, now. Come on baby…
—The Locomotion/Larry Nored
WHERE MY THINGS
Wear my boots?
Track with my foots -
my feet.
Wear my gloves
with all their loves -
cleaning the tub.
Wear my underthings?
Clings
to you, darling…
Wear my pants
and the ants?
Do the “Locomotion.”
Wear my shirt?
Now that’s overt!
Hand it back!
Wear my socks
and their aftershocks -
hanging by a thread.
Wear my wig?
You’ll get a gig,
tower rappelling.
Wear my ring?
It’s on a string
with my honey’s.
You’ll wear his fists
flying from his wrists -
you’ll meet your Maker!
bag of spiders,
lair contained,
unless
shaken and poured
it’s raining spiders -
spiders reigning…its a downpour
bag of spiders, spidermen
weaving webs - oh what wild webs conceived
spiderlings take rappelling lessons -
humans repelled by sticky wickets…
a trampoline buffet.
lacy architecture unique.
Eight Leggers Grill capitalizes
on an insect infestation.
bag of spiders, they’re no cocooned butterflies.
arachnid’s legs running loose, climbing
into cracks, crevices and corners,
on the loose…
Hear that sound coming from your
television set
Government warning: This is not a test!
There’s no music rocking
from your radio
Only the shrill alert of an emergency signal
indicating transmission shutdown
Better put on an aluminum tin foil hat
to block out the penetrating EM waves
Unauthorized dark-net instructions
rapidly rappelling
over your cranial firewall
Audio emissions
spiking an intrusive breach
Fertile mind-control conditions,
activate the patriotic sleeper sells
Keep the pocketbook within reach
You never thought to ask
how did you get that small scar
on the side of your neck
When you went to the doctor
for a regular checkup visit
Anesthesia clouds your memory,
microchip implantation
not put on your medical history
Audio emissions
now have put someone else
in control of you
Stay on script to the program,
that’s all you can do
Can no longer block
the high-tech matrix
noise pollution coming through
Audio emissions
have made a human robot out of you
i have it
like Dave's name
a wonder gadget
that polishes sorrow
a flower sobs
nothing remains salt
rappelling through trees
seeding my womb
nothing remains globs
anywhere anymore anytime
Picking a lock you break
a bloodline. A stargazer
maps the astrological signs
and connects with the
moon in oviduct:
wriggling,
coiling.
There were no foeticide qualms,
in rappelling to shamanic healing.
It was not a deference for any
deity. A ritual
gives you
name, gives
you fame.
Wearing a wooden sandal which
keeps you electrified with
divinity. This is ambulatory.
You move on the green earth
squashing the grass,
grasshoppers
beating the
Venus.
Satish Verma
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