scribble-onics seems to be all the rage
so here's a verse or two in a foreign meter
when gas prices soar so high:


velvet crumples on the ground
and a cape appears
as a thumb-nail sized bullet
cranks another hero's underpants,
try saying "clark K. ain't afraid of no--".

we got another medic on the side of the road
breathing air into a vacuum
that's what lungs are you know,
a vacuum, and what are you going to suck in today?
karma karma karma,
the air produced by a thousand trees waiting to
be executed like victims of a genocide,
but we don't scream for dead-trees-walking
unless they can talk and defend themselves in a court of law.

here's an idea:
run.
and when you get to the other side
of whatever wall that divides you and me,
send a postcard of the grass,
so i'll know the exact shade of green,
so I can determine without lifting a finger just how
our two lawns compare in hue, tint, and shade.

boring people always did make for good couches.

06/09/2008

Posted on 06/09/2008
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