I don’t dream in black & white
I only see one color
it’s not Touched by An Angel
or Care Bears
but Bugs Bunny for hours on end
every cartoon drawn together
with a shotgun rigged chainsaw
my bedroom floor
the walls surrounding
all painted the color red

And as each morning I make my way
another lemming on the march
I smear a grin across this weary face
to hide the inevitable jump
still sizzling from the night before
Godfather II - the 11 o’clock news
adding depth to the color red

Come in my boy
lie down on the couch
the psychiatrist says to me
there’s nothing to worry about
we’ll cure this obsession
it’s all just a question of your history
a steady diet of TV violence
to go with your milk and cookies

Yes I feel better already doctor
thank-you so much
says I walking out the door
glancing back a final time
at one less lemming
sprawled across the floor
surrounded by the color red

© 1982

600 hits as of November 2022

06/12/2019

Author's Note: Originally part of the Enter Every System collection, due to its subject, I now feel it’s better placed in This Masterpiece Of Madness. Thanks to 60 years of television, and now the Internet, I’ve developed an abhorrent dislike for cruelty and violence of any kind, including psychopaths and just plain mean-spirited people. As with everything else, it had to come out in my poetry, albeit 37 years ago.

Posted on 06/12/2019
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