Monday, February 27, 2012

Pleas from a Service Worker, Onlooker

Parents teach you kids manners
Little pests buzzing about,
Bumping into corners and then
Crying their eye out
Hoping Mommy and Daddy
Can perform miracles---
It's in this want
Of instantaneous satisfaction
That indignation festers.
So there's no "Please" and "Thank you"
Just Me, Me, Me
Now, Now, Now
Mine, Mine Mine.
So parents please,
Save yourself some embarrassment,
And practice politeness
With yourselves and your children
So when it comes to model behavior
You'll fit the mold.
Thank you.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

For awhile I've had this bird bound by my rib cage;
A quiet little sparrow confined in my torso.
Once, always covered, there was no day and night distinguished
---Left alone with its silent song in between slumber.
Occasionally the night owl would come giving the time of day,
Cooing and hooting quietly through the sheathed bones,
Drunk on mice and its own sense of self-satisfaction.
The owl was the sparrow's only visitor (I was an absent landlord),
But one day it stopped coming, telling the time, cooing and hooting.
So the solitary sparrow sang sorrowfully,
Drawing my ear, pleading to unlock this cage.
So I removed the sheath, and loosened these bones,
Now, this bird has its plumage on display.
It can come and go as it pleases;
Flying freely, traveling with ease.
Hunting for bugs and seed,
Or perhaps some more twigs to strengthen its nest
Formed already between my two lungs, breath stolen.
Finally, in your Sun's brilliance, this bird's aflutter.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Bunch of barrel-chested motherfuckers.
Hands slicking back their hair,
Talking about how big their dicks are.
Spitting shit backed behind booze soaked breath;
Words slap your face with no politeness.
Apes lacking manners with their ego
Dragging its knuckles and beating
That chest, sounding the war drum.
There's no dressing up,
And no turning it down because
With tenacity they tug at you.
It's the nature of the culture---
We don't eat our young,
We let them devour themselves.

Monday, February 6, 2012

Hoarse Play

I lost my voice, but you found it.
You picked it up, dusted it off,
And put up posters on poles
With a picture and a number.
So I gave you a call,
But with no sound in my mouth,
I could not say what about.
However, you somehow knew
The nature of this call.
Putting the words right back
Where they belong.
Because even in silence,
You get it.
And without explanation,
You know.