Yesterday, I was out of the picture, home sick during last night's extended open mic. Luckily, DiDi was the substitute host, and she was sweet enough to send me a mini-livestream of the short but sweet open mic (which included a return by Bill Barnum). Also, even though I wasn't there, I'm still determined to make today's poem politically themed, given all the post-debate coverage I read.
Gravity is nonchalant
when delivering impact
that doesn't affect
the overall earth.
Two candidates drone
their weekend bombs
hoping to strike
victory from afar.
Press releases drop
from another planet.
Online polls determine impact
Half don't believe enough in science
to accept this is happening,
instead busy themselves
of Hilary's alleged infidelity,
imaging their prose is adequate
enough to engage undecideds
and entice the leave-their-suit-on
to go pagan picturing
the pairing of pairing
of Bernie and Clinton
going B.C. in bed.
Opiate for the messes, stimulus
for those with packed baggage,
something old school punks roleplay
searching dictionaries for new curse words,
another excuse to bury our nose
walking over unburried bodies
something to pursue on the plane,
in place of crossword puzzle, using cover
to peek over and watch the
man who could be terrorist
or just Mexican (so libertarian
they never bothered to learn the difference)
before they look out their window
(of course they have a window seat)
and wait for the pilot to tell them
they're looking at the holy wasteland.
They picture hundreds of heathens
fighting over grass and blow
final outcome invisible from above
their names as recognized as yours.
Then they can go to sleep
and wait for the sun in their window
to give up its compromises with the earth
and set the rivers below to boil.
|DiDi's list for the night. Of course someone has to skip a number.|
Special thanks to Martha Boss, Gawaine Ross, Julia Carlson.Erik Nelson, Annie Goldstone, Mark Carson, James Van Looy, Deta Galloway, and Bill Barnum.