"kablam" poems
I remember when MTV was in its prime,
A new voice to represent the new boom
Babies growing up since the 80s
Louder still through the troubling decades
(Maxed out credit no head room)
After —the punks in nirvana and rapping clergy
It was the only channel on
Youthful rebel yell —honest news
I remember it pretty well
Shaping us generation x y and Personal Jesus
New wave good bye to when
Childhood then without pain of malnourished
Africa or nukes threatening our
Cruel summers
Were we happier then?
So what happens to the music
Rockstars rip van wrinkle
Geriatric hall of fame
(No one lives forever
Reruns with the ****** & mr. Ed
Now that old neighbor’s dead)
Television
Nowadays
Seem more gangster
School shootings terrorists
On the train, kamikaze planes,
It’s all the same ole
Bling kablam oh bits
******* please
Redirecting our attention
To WMD
***
Where the hells are we?
I remember back then
On MTV —Nicki Minaj says
Between the hysterics of police brutality
She said Happiness is living your life
Without struggle,
That stuck with me
Because we all watch the tube
We all search for meaning
Sadly defining what happiness
May look like
Real World and paradoxical reality
TV
Para socially defunct
Clarity
Conditioned to continuously
Stay tuned
Brief message of empty
Hypnosis a pure form of business
Wall Street
Boulevard of broken dreams
I want my
Happy. What do I mean
To be?
Life ***** lately
The human condition
Talking too much
Refusing to see
No more talking heads too much
Bla bla ********
I want my
MTV . Happy .
My generation
We are the world
freedom And yes, Peace.
Man kindly as one
Symphony
And street, a melting ***
Of diversity
I remember the music
The future
I had hope to see
Behind the shades
Circa 80s 90s
(Fossils)
What time is it then?
When will we
Begin
Again
Don’t worry be happy
Run Forest run!
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 11:55 PM UTC
I'm constantly lamenting zero notifications on the newsfeed because I live in Plato's cave as nothing but a living shadow. I never see myself being happy, just euphoric, and the difference is an obvious jut between the peaceful Bodhisatva making eternity his home in the calm moon-lit night of China-like hills in Oregon, and ****** pressed into a varicose vein and kablam, hello peace. Hello, peace.
I'd say I'm manic. As in I'm elastic, and life makes my brain muscle so ******* spastic, I can't help but wonder if I've wandered to far into the realm of happy-sadness because everything I do is spoken word in ad lib, I'm not so sure about this
self-help stuff, this
self-improvement, the idea is soothing, but I think I was late to whatever point was made in its benefit
*** I still feel sad, and that's it.
and somebody telling me how to feel good just makes me feel worse *** why don't I feel real? why does it feel like everything I do is a near-life experience, I'm just waiting to wake up and as far as I can tell, it's the same as waiting to die-- I'm not trying to be depressing.
I'm just looking for the lesson to lessen the mess on the desk of my head.. cluttered with butter, shattered and muttering my final dictates to whatever half of me knows it's all okay forever and ever.
I'm still in love with everyone I ever said I was, I try to pretend her blood-soaked departure isn't the reason I fake a British accent at parties to make myself seem more attractive to everyone including myself, but who am
I
kidding?
what kind of trick is it to wear this mitten, even if I admit it and it's just a part of me indulging in the holy trinity of my father, my son, and the holy ghost.. who IS the holy ghost?
I'm the holy ghost because I have never met myself beyond mirrors and photographs and it's not quite the same as the way I knew you. I know all of you better than I know myself.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
It's talking to me
Knocking on my window pane
Pitter patter
Louder and louder
I open up my window
Letting the screen divide us
She's mad I tell you
With her heavy sighs and opened eyes
She's got a crock her voice
Like the crack of a ball against a bat
She's showing symbolic signs
Simply showing me symptoms of depression and oppression
Full of miss connections and rejections
She's rumbling grounds and shaking leaves off of trees
As soon as kablam
Those trees split in threes
Birds forget where to be
But she doesn't care
Cause she's talking to me
I can tell she's got dead weight on her shoulders
Fully forgetting what she told us
You can see it in her grey puffy eyes the anger and frustration
As tears fall down and leave stains on the pavement
Her heavy sighs are leaving street signs asking why
With the branching on trees fighting back for mercy
All the cars screaming as the swerve against her
Fighting cause they wish they were her
“And the flag was still there”
I don't understand why she's so upset
I just know she's going neck to neck
With all of her haters
Inventions designed to enslave her
Yet I decide to open my window
That just lets her know
She's got someone to vent to
Tell the truth to
She whispers when I sleep
And I listen while she weeps
It's sad she only comes out to vent
Maybe she's heaven sent
God sending a reminder of the promise he meant
Rainbows come out when she's done with her confession
To remind me of her lessons
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 11:18 AM UTC