Fast acting, long lasting
Its smashing!
Girl with no more options.
Animal tests,
Lumps on the *******
No not on the ads,
We’re selling ***
Two for the money.
A truck and a honey.
What are we buying?
We’re buying ***
A girl home for the day
Finds a soft spot to lay,
Take off her shirt
But leaves on her jeans.
However,
Its more than erections,
The scheming perfection
Of using each other
To bolster our greed.
In more than one boardroom
There are people debating
Do we want groom and groom
Or the bride to be black?
The intern will chime in
That “going green” is “in”
And we’ll all ******* buy them
2% recycled handy wipes.
Because our eyes are vacuums
They will always have room
To take in more ********
That falls in our lines.
We watch their commercials
And yes, they’re tear jerkers.
A one legged child
Raised by two Asian guys.
SO WE BUY THE DISH SOAP!
THEYV’E SOLD US!
We did it!
We filled up our carts,
In the store and online.
We swallowed it all up,
Leaving plastic behind.
WE DID IT!
We all worked as a team
To fuel the
Capitalist Dream.
A fabricated human connection
Forged between man and corporation.
We’ve done it folks.
The American Dream.
People against people
All working as a team.
Well, at least for all those who have eyes.
Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 2:16 PM UTC
My dad caught me making tampons
From duct tape and toilet paper.
Sat me down and said,
He’s proud of me,
But I shouldn’t have to do this.
He’ll make sure
I have the things I need.
My smirk stares straight past him.
The things I need.
When dad is away we brush our teeth with alcohol.
We mix sugar into water
For our breakfast.
I’ve cleaned wounds with Clorox wipes.
Our medieval, dusty medkit shows no mercy.
We rubbed leaves into our ****** knees
And pretended
That we knew what the **** we were talking about.
With lies about what “elders” taught us.
Or maybe it was just me?
Maybe it was just me
Who curled up on the hearth
Shaking while my shins melted,
Filling the hole under my ribcage
With my fists.
While the kitten froze to death
Under a leaky water pipe.
The things we need.
Maybe it was just me
Who kept living like a refugee,
Or felt I ever was one?
Using one shelf of five assigned to me,
A bag of food packed under the bed
Long into my first years of college.
Living without when things ran out.
Embracing the word “gone”
As a new way of living.
Steak dinners from my father all the while.
Money for band t-shirts?
Ask your mother.
But new sound systems,
Let’s start a farm,
Adopt a sister,
And travel the country
Eating at only old diners.
The things we need.
The things we need.
Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
I started praying
the day the jack fell
when were both under the car.
The way you screamed
No! No! No!
But everything was fine
stayed with me long after
our kids grew tall.
The way everything was fine
while the kids watched in silence.
So I prayed at night
when you were sleeping,
so you wouldn't tease me.
I whispered thank you to the soil
when we turned the gardens each spring.
I kissed thank you's
into the leaves when it rained.
Thank you's to the earth
for growing you.
Tall and strong.
An oak with broad roots
keeping you grounded.
Lacing us together,
splitting us into new life.
Anchoring you to me.
How could I not pray thank you.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
Honey, when winter comes
your mom will cry a lot.
Because the earth is frozen and dead,
and her body hurts.
She will sleep longer
and grow spindly indoor vegetables.
But sweetie, in the spring
your mom will sing in the kitchen.
She'll take you camping when its too cold,
and kayaking in the rain.
She'll refer to everything as a beautiful lady
and rhyme your name with plants.
Because the earth is pulsing blood again
your mom will dance on the furniture with you.
She'll take you on walks to feel moss
and tree heartbeats.
And baby, in the summer
your mom will yell a lot.
Because its too hot
and she wants to build a tree house for you.
But the yard always needs mowed
and her hands are always swollen.
And the time just passes too fast
that she'll rush like a flooded river.
Then darling in the fall
she'll tell story after story after story
about growing up on dusty trails
and swimming in thunderstorms.
Then when she's quiet
she'll grow too quiet.
She'll rake the leaves though we don't rake.
She'll run her hand along old furniture.
She'll press leaves and say
you're just like so-and-so
when they were small like you.
She'll smile out the window on car rides.
She'll cry at funny movies.
Its important to be patient,
She's a moon with many phases.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
Henry got sent to reform school
after throwing a brick in the neighbors pool.
Got kicked back home at seventeen.
Kicked his brothers any time he pleased.
Taught girls to love him on faded back seats.
Kept reminding his brothers the world can be mean.
Dad punched him in the face,
that's the last we ever saw him.
Saw his brothers last week,
said they missed him, said they'd call him.
Ryan rattled his name like an electric hum
said he never cried, with his mouth around his thumb.
Face covered in freckles, with shifty beady eyes.
Rode the bus one morning with those freckles turned to lines.
He'd hold your hand if you let him
and remind you that he's fine.
Mikey always wanted to spend the night with us.
We told him we were busy from the backseat of the bus.
He said we were his best friends,
could he help our mom around the house?
We told her when he knocked
to tell him we were out.
Last we heard Mike's still working
in the hog barns down the road.
Ryan can't still be five
and I hope Henry's grown old.
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 12:52 PM UTC
My mom said;
You're going to want a bike,
a good one
so it lasts longer.
You'll want a specialized
so you can ride on the road
and the trails.
You want one with lights and mirrors.
She said you want to save
a few hundred dollars.
My mom said;
if you're going to have a bike
you're going to have to take care of it.
Don't let the frame or chain get muddy,
they'll rust.
You have to do touch ups and keep it dry.
That's just part of owning a bike.
She said she found a deal I'd love.
Said she'd drive me there.
Said I need to shop for helmets.
Said I need to buy a rack.
Said before summer's over
I need to get shots, go to the dentist,
visit grandma, write thank you letters, pack my clothes,
and buy a bike.
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 12:40 PM UTC
Teacher said
when zebra's dead
her brains will rot
out from her head
They have no soul
so dig a hole
God has no time
for beasts and moles
The gates are closed
for hooves and sinners
Must stand up straight
use a fork at dinner
God has no room
for even grass or trees
I guess heaven's full
no need for me.
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 3:11 PM UTC
Remember when we'd roller blade
and ***** about our moms?
And in summer we would
swim in caves
and scrape our feet on rocks.
Curled on the shower floor
we'd find crooked cuts
and blue bruise lines.
We'd say they were all accidents.
We'd say the other lied.
And when we laughed,
we laughed too hard.
and when you cried I cried.
We'd both say we were
scared to die.
When on the graves we'd lie.
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 11:47 AM UTC
Three days before you left
you called me beautiful,
which you never do.
One week before you left
you said, I love you so much
its insane.
Three months before you left
we fought about everything
two people could ever think of.
One year before you left
I lay drunk in your arms.
People joked that we were in love
like they always did.
Like we always did.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 12:16 AM UTC
Grandpa's dead
we get his shed.
Mom says we'll load
it in the truck.
Maple helicopter seeds
spin down gracefully
but his plane; no such luck.
The sun too goes down
while mother's brothers frown
and she leads the sorting crew.
On a tin roof I watch
while hunched adults haul
in hay field three feet tall.
Where Gramp's plane fell
dad prays he's resting well
but I think Mom thinks
he's in hell.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 10:34 PM UTC