this book is a pit
we’re trapped inside!
where chimeras creepily crawl
out of a sprawling wall of eyes
warning - this product may contain saturated pride
lets change this truth into a lie
damned are the minds of men
that try to deny
book bends are the sequins
in which a faded glory hides
faded not to you or I
a faded - less tumescent answer to the question life; why?
coworker: Sergio is hilatious that fried chicken joke was hilarious, it’s a fact, black people love fried chicken.
me:
*coworker notices me for the first time*
coworker:
me:
coworker: heh, cbm it uhh, it was a joke.
me: I get it, truly I do, you’re willing to try anything to negate the profundity of your nonexistence, and labeling others, especially ones that differ from you gives you some feeling of control and through that misinterpretation a slowly dissipating mirage of purpose; its not like you need control, you already have it, you’re a gainfully employed young, white, christian male with a college degree and a full head of hair, you literally could not have it any easier, yet it’s not enough, it’s never enough, you feel threatened and you don’t understand why, so you repeat what you heard your daddy say, you attempt to move forward by stepping back, you make a statement which is ground breaking, “black people like fried chicken” you insult me by attempting to shove me against my will into some box, then you insult my intelligence by saying it’s a joke, even if it was, how old is that material? Do you have one about airplane food? Did you just fly in? are your arms tired? wakka wakka? wakka wakka?
coworker:
me:
coworker:
me:
me:
me: I mean can you blame us? it sure is delicious! *shit eating grin*
coworker: hahaha yeah! cbm gets it!
no country no old color
it don’t stop; dirty garments on dancing bones
city streets sweep with Rockefellers
substance with no harmony; ocapellas
broken black and white TV sets
old; the channels never change
miles of smiles change to cringes
as mouths with no hinges
do their best pac-man impression
there is no expression
only wolves behind counters
with expresso machines squirting shots of just work
there is no just worth; its just earth
the great depression
the great expression
the great impression; the american dream, black men scream
on that silver screen
great white hippy hopes in that exhaled dope; an exhalted hope
lady liberty is naked underneath that dress
no wonder america goes commando
just release john rambo and army figurines
good,keep the man’s mind quarantined
no emotions; no chicken soup
just baseball bats and chicken fingers
surrogates and doppelgangers are in our closets on our hangers
we are our own worst stranger; danger
engrasped in the scene
footfalls on rasp and rocks
dime store dreams
peddled on corner store TV screens
the laughter drowns out the screams
what a shop of horrors
rolling stones so porous
we ignore the words
but sing along to the chorus;
killer instinct is extinct
ripped and gnashed by the maw; so hungry
for man, for country
empathy sold separately
but it is soled; a stepping stone to a throne
one made of cockroach thorax’s and skulls
ahh! just like home
empires fall and stars die,
surrogate cyborgs rise out of cracked concrete
facebook - mission complete
her dark was calm
her windows were tinted exquisite
no one could see in
but see out, see out she did
the pounds merry - go - round
exponentially with the ups and downs of her frowns
she needed the pretty, she craved to be a doll
the slender cuts released;
they were her gills, the slits
she needed them to breathe
closed eyelids hers breaths freeze
this is where she wishes the nightmares never leave
she was better this way
she needed the doubt
her identity was more about whats missing
she could not face what scarred; scared,
a ghost she was
a ghost but there
most cops are like single ply toilet paper
you only really need them when you’re in deep shit
and even then,
how useful are they?
the human eye barely catches
the vision obscured by the moral sunglasses
which somehow surpasses the shinning blunders shielded;
the melting pot has melted and everyone is everywhere; separate but fair?
pistols sovereign; dirty hands, sanguine eyes dressed in suit and ties
skyscrapers do just that, scrape the sky
felicity finds not; its blind
sour citrus clementines peel
like the human form
the sweetest fruit brings the worst kind of flies
the predators predating one’s passions preface the predominate;
its life, a gauntlet; thrown gloves and duels,
sacrilegious scarecrows with gang tats and cornrows
lines these streets
its on sale!
the pavement pounds like heart beats
for once we’re alive - partially
look like, be like, see like; its shark week
and everyone is chum, yum
trends treadmill, we’re running but we stand still
smoke our cigarettes, play our games
we’re tamed, maimed, enflamed - ash
she liked to litter
little pieces of herself
in the things she did
she looked at the room of eyes quizzically
she made her flourishes science;
her steps questions; art, she peeled the world in her movements
she sorted good from the lost, the evil from the clean,
she moved; she danced; she grooved
lost in the time golden; boogie,
truncating herself into three minutes
naked never bare she bared but never cared
eyes stared unaware brevity enclosed;
encapsulated the prose of her asymmetry
three minutes be damned
move; dance; grove
her music never stops