"gainers" poems
perfunctory actions
zombie habits
sheep normalcy
blindly following the cud chewers
lemmings fall to their deaths
slowly
genetically engineered crops
dusted with pharmaceutical poison
laced with irradiated petroleum pesticides
fed to the babies of the poor –
wealthy voyeurs eagerly tune-in
as the impoverished masses rot
for viewing pleasure
leisurely strolling across manicured lawns
those in power scoff at the growing spectacle
unaware that the cake is stale
and the masses smell blood –
hurriedly, accountants shuffle tax rates
mix those with interest credit
season it with mortgage fees
and serve it on wall street
place mats
taking stock of stock market gains
gamblers do double gainers off high rises
adding to the flesh being consumed by the under class
under classed –
underclassmen, underpaid, stretch under ware elastic
as waistlines expand with the debt ceiling
both symbolizing the slow decline of
the American dream
screaming into the sewer
fewer eyes look back as disease dulls the iris
loss of the inner shine
glowing reflection of living organisms
fading as the day
slips into the blue-black –
night falls on a nation of imbeciles
brain dead patients
broken by depression and weight-loss scams
hearts crying out for care
personal and compassionate
instead are met with sterile robotics
and sanitary “C” students dressed in white
fearful of lawsuits
and spiders
they prescribe to symptoms
without knowing insurance number 87319A23-S1
is a human being, just like them
also living in fear
of the same establishment –
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
Pritzle-prang and maple dots,
cafe laughter-doon,
the other-spike of apres-lots
sleeps til half past noon.
I'm lost in fortune reading fairs,
the merry scent of loss,
don't share the fours with Aldebarks,
he vents the gainers toss.
Regard the ring with slower-stares-
the dwarven clowns at play,
the toffee apple wrestle fit
makes ache, a night for day.
The painted lips, the glower lakes,
some girls, for sell, for rye,
no chance to take, Ms. Rosenhips.
I'll leave the half-sheets dry.
So sickly-sweet with menalgaze,
with waste, with fear, with fleas.
No elephants, to drag me through.
This circus is not for me.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 4:26 AM UTC
> The world doesn't accept complainers
So I'll shut up and live with it
People could be dyin and they'll be called entertainers
Because no one will listen so its better to submit
> I'm tired and want to bawl my eyes out
But this world will not accept complainers
So I'll shut up and deal with it
And continue my path even if there's doubt
Even if I receive nothing, I'll pretend to be one of those gainers
Even if my face is soaked with spit
> It hurts so much but I'll clench my teeth
Because life cannot have another soul dying
And take my weapon out of its sheath
Because fighting is easier than crying
May 18, 2025
May 18, 2025 at 8:59 AM UTC