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Billy B Oct 2012
A Tribute

A king takes supper on a creaking deathbed. Featureless, winged creatures zoom by the dark condensed windows. Micro parasites build adobe headquarters in his soft tissue. Reaching for a plate,    he groans the terabyting howl that’s prescribed with chemotherapy. Qwerty and light from the drugs, he stares at the apple on his tray. Lost in its curves, he finds himself trapped in a safari of memories. A dream devolves upon his downtrodden mind….

The canopy is populated with twittering, angry birds. Pools of social blood attract flies to the googolplex degree. He stumbles through the dell, suspicious forest while a tremulous, fiery fox stalks behind his echoing footfalls. Pixar apes swing from trees chased by grisly, disney men with guns and trucks. A large eye tunes the darkness and blinks red upon an aging mountain lion in shadow’s brush.



The sony rays belight foliage in auspicious, plaid-orange hues. This amazon of experience plugs the wanderer into a hard drive of intelligence – a gateway to an encyclopedia of wikis and browsers, expanse enough for any backdrop rooftop audience to be faux-enthralled and eager. There are grumblings in the distance of another engine tromping the scope in search of something new and useless. A rumorous bat upsets the plagiarizing tide of the Atlantic Pea Sea. A snake slinks out of the blossoms clinging to the vines among a macintosh tree and bites the salty flier of the washboard night; cyber venom invades his veins.

The average, homeless, bounding, warrior awakens to find a cold supper on his lap and another syringe in his arm. His remaining gums support his teeth as they bite into the apple. He swallows, sighs, and rests his balding, crescent, once-handsome head on the white pillow.  The green fruit tumbles gently out of bed and mutely rolls to the floor.
With that, Steve Jobs is dead.
Michael Marchese Feb 2018
Like Upton on fungal brain Jungles, I speak it
The deepest state secret, like Snowden I leak it
On Wikis more tricky than Dicky’s fiat
Money bloodied, tick tock the livestock market rot
As the eagle lie nester’s internment investors
Drop freedom on chemical weapons-grade testers
These A. Smith’n westers who don’t lift a finger
To hijack your minds with it itchin’ the trigger
Then burning cross names off of Madoff Hit lists
To redistrict restrictions like cuffs around wrists...

As 3/5th ye Old Hicks still insist that it’s fixed
By the millions of ALIEN votes that exist
The same gips enlist Contras to slaughter the poor
Till this livin’ Hell Salvador’s dyin’ for more
Of that Hindu Kush ghoul so azul in Kabul
The brown jewel that digs crowns Abu Ghraibyards to rule
Where brave hero in shooters survive all a lone
Like a drone, without home,
For some Chairman Dow’s throne
Gets us cheaper white collar depictions of good
Guys with guns who run colorful, bad neighborhoods...

Where the pyramid schemers cell nightmares to dreamers
And deal ‘em in doses of “just say no” *******
Allowed in their Aryan race tractor pull
Bible Bull Connor full metal jackets of wool
Clothing wolves upon little red silenced and shamed
Ad some Hunger bowl Games, ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!?
Well then I’ll end with this sort of "alternate" fact
There’s a Desert Storm post-truthin’ nukes in Iraq
Where you won’t see ‘em comin’ from Russia with love
Such a villain be chillin’ like Putin.gov

— The End —