52.5 Seconds Ago

Extra, Extra, read all about it…

     … And the…. exclusively….

Extra, Extra, read all about it…

: that’s so this morning,

downloaded the full scoop after

my first cup of joe, just before the

spoon sunk the last of the cheerios swimming

in the bowl

Fire: Electricity

Fan blades: Freon

Like: Love

Communication: Status Update

Words: Emoticons and Textspeak

Husbands tweeting wives two rooms away

to tell them they love them

Brother texting sister to turn the volume down on that game of angry birds, never looking over, never prying neck from it's downward angularity…despite being an arm's span apart

Nodding to the tunes you just prepared

Setting playlist for the afternoon commute

A sound interrupts, indicating something has just broken

Only to find it’s some coupon, for some place you never knew existed, despite being down the road for the past six months

Extra, Extra, read all about it

…breaking news…hot off the presses…

Read it first…exclusively…

Extra, Extra, read all about it

:(Shaking head in apathetic disgust)

That’s so fifty-two.five seconds ago…

For Brian Miller's Media discussion for this week's Poetics over at D'Verse.  Check out his excellent article and then tune in to all the amazing responses linked up to the best community of poets around.  

Judicious Slaves

If this, then that

ten of these, two of that

similar proportions, perpendicularity of pain, as seen

through a perpetuation of crunching number machines

Persistently fading into never-ever-land,

no matter what has and is or isn’t and won’t be done,

the hours extinguish and the pyre plays  

the final ashes of a flailing song

Solstices leap—

and jump higher—

than those vaunted beams—

oft balanced by the eyes of spoon-fed man

sometimes it feels,

as if the only oaths that matter,

are those force-fed regurgitations—regulations passed

from the mouths of invisible boss-men

to the hands that seed—unknowingly—

with the binding tenets graphed to flesh,

bound we become; bound we are

to propagate our own misfortunate scarring

They allow us what we think we want

they provide us with the thoughts they feed

empowering through asides and coercive acts

thus curating the souls path of arc

turning serf to purveyor,

whose own word of mouth marketing

is the pulpit, used as a vehicle for

convincing the misinformed,

that it’s in everyone’s best interests,

to keep the steel attached to lens

and they:

Satiate your promise

in all the vows you

break for them. 

Ensconcing your

fruition in all the lies

you’ve faked.

Judicious slaves

to toil evermore

bound to become

what we are

and what we’ve always been

                            the epitome

of the antithesis

         of all that’s truly free

Pressure Pitched

Gang nasty and the bard of bricks
Littered lanes of cardboard motels
or were they mausoleums?

Pacified northwestern time fringed
Zapped by the contextual pop-ups
clustering closed
Delete.  Delete.  Delete.

Bases loaded.  .355 lifetime hitter at the plate.
Tie game. bottom of the 8th.
Heart of the lineup due up top
If only this last bat could fall
I'd be the hero
well at least I wouldn't be the goat
perspiration blisters
Head to hair
Sweeping beads of sweat to mound
Pausing, pausing- they won't run
Catchers signing ones and threes
But I can't even see
as my mind is singing verse, thought upon thought-

" who's on deck, buster, he's never hit off me, he's 2-33 lifetime batting with bases loaded,"

" If they take him out who's left off the bench"

Statistics flow like streams alive- one upon the other carousing the breadth of choice-

"It's the grandest of all stages- would it be crazy to walk him, that would give them a one run lead, but I know I can get the next guy- is it a gamble- yes, is it a calculated risk- perhaps"

A bird flutters amongst the darkening skies
Into the grayest cloud he disappears
and the drops suddenly appear
As the public address announcer tells the fans
I sigh a breath of relief
As I know the tarps will roll out soon