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 Jan 2013 Glen Brunson
JM
Look at where we are now.
We have **** stores on every corner.
Our fifteen year old pipe dreamers
just collectively **** themselves.

We have dubstep finally.

Who the **** needs
an instrument
or training
or talent
when
I can steal fruity loops
and make my own ****?
I make dope beats at the same place
I
"write"
"poetry".

A cold fog is seeping into the park
across the street and I like to say "****" a lot.

Google makes me feel like a ******* king,
ordering my minions
to go and fetch me
the whys and wherefores of
how butterflies communicate.

Why?

Because *******, that's why.

We have countries revolting
against *******
who have been in power
for decades
but now we have
Facebook,
*******!
Take that!
You can't get away with ****.
Ask Osama.
How long will it take before peace sets in?
Will it take as long for the machines to take over?
Both outcomes seem inevitable.

We have as much ***
as we can download
and pretty soon

our reality will be completely virtual.
If you got the money, honey.

I see our white bloated
underbelly
sagging and scraping
****
against ***** beer stained floors,
a crimson trail,
bodies in the swath
of decadence
and a most
revolting pursuit of debauchery,
Thank God!

It's fun to go off the grid sometimes,
like when cable
and the interwebs
become that luxury
that you can't justify,
you know, reality.
Ha! What a joke.

It wont be long until some clown
figures out time travel
and we all burn up in
the resulting feedback loop.
That's what the big bang was.
Some other clown,
some other place,
figured **** out.

It's not gonna be me, Jack.

I'm on the cusp.
Not really, I am a full on scorpio,
*******.

But

I was lucky enough
to remember
rotary phones
and lite brites
and playing ******* outside.
Sounds nostalgic and sweet, right?
**** that,
those hours I spent
burning some heavy metal logo
into that stump outside mom's house?
With a ******* magnifying glass
*** we didn't know what cable tv or mp3's were?
I was dreaming
about **** shops
and making weird ****** up
noises that sound alarmingly
similar to fuckstep.
**** YES!
I was bored as ****
and couldn't wait for a day
when I could plug in a new
******* universe,
my universe,
my way,
I create the characters and the storyline.
My internal apps do the rendering.
Get it?
I was thinking of that ****
way back when,
so it makes sense that
someone
a little more ambitious
and well funded
was making that stuff,
even back then.
The farmers don't let the sheep know much, do they?

That's all well and good mate,
but how happy are you gonna be
when you lose all your **** because
some 22 year old knows more about
binary than you do?
How ******* awesome is your pabst
collection and your dad's old 45's gonna
be when you are *** out because you
thought you could become an internet
billionaire and your sister just got tired
of carrying your ***?
This world is ******
and we are growing out of our pants too fast.
Even the smart ones aren't gonna be able to keep up.
Have fun mother *******.
Do it now,
NOW!
Get laid as much as you can
with as many as you can,
but love them all,
and mean it,
you *******,
this **** isn't gonna happen again.
We are on the cusp of the singularity
and it's gonna be one hell of a ride.
 Jan 2013 Glen Brunson
Anne M
No matter how
you hold me, my forehead
always
seems to meet your
heartbeat—as if to reassure me
that you’re still there.
As if every part of us is
alive and desperate
to communicate it
with our gently shattering
bodies.

We’re breaking
but not broken.
Haunted, but not ourselves
ghosts.
The ridges of your thumbs
exorcise me
and I escape
the insanity
of my gossamer
thoughts.
 Jan 2013 Glen Brunson
Icarus M
The wind sighed
Forget.
Wet whistled lips
as teeth scrape along
to force a suppressed whisper
fabricated into a command
pleading with an element strong.
As the wind's breath
                                       takes and rips
two syllables before her
with no lines left to play the part.
                                   Empty.                                                    she stands there
threads of herself whirling
like hair in her face.
As the draft increases
and catches her on broad wings,
through the clouds
                                              to reach the sun
and fall to earth                                                            ­                                 Because she flew too close.
Close enough to feel the heat
Close enough to watch her tips singe
catch flame as her body neared the fringe      .      and let go       .      so close enough to feel the bliss
                                        Blistering.
       ­                                                           She screamed.
Searing.                                   Straining.  ­                                Suffocating.
                                                    ­                    In pain.
As her wings melted
dashing her towards the ground                                                           ­                             to impact
                                                                ­         hard dirt.
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                 The earth mumbled
                                                         ­                                                                 ­                                      *Regret.
"If Icarus was a girl, depression would be her prison."
© copy right protected
Entwined,
Elbows akimbo,
We make casual conversation.
Your hand on my ***.
We discover the world
Seeing very much the same thing;
An arm, a leg
A slippery smile.

— The End —