Feeding the Rich

Drink Corona for Corona

I hope you stocked up on enough toilet paper, weed and beer
Since you won’t need them anymore,
There will be more of that before
You know it,
but the fresh lamb and ham and
Fruit Isn’t clear
to show up until next year,
even with warnings 
Karen doesn’t care
whether you’re alive or well,
that bit@% was wishing you to her version of Hell,
Just last week,
Now she claims the meek
Need to Sanitize between each scanned item
while she preaches about fellow sin
from Starbuck's coffee yellowed thin
Lips and mustard teeth.
Triple bag her the baggy triple -soul still says,
“I have many military [twice removed] children to feed”
“They need more than those greedy poor”
“IF EVEN ONE COMES NEAR MY DOOR!”
I will call the police,
And have my niece
Blast him with my husb...

Tobacco at Odd Hours

Ashen heaven,
clenched,
comfortably fierce
in my crooked yellows,
kicked back
at the primo-crack of
a casually deemed dawn.
A thin cloud of smoke
surrounds me,
inspires me,
only events such as,
can bring forth
the realest of I’s.

Can’t help but laugh,
my friends,
at confusion
of my own crooked innards.
Crooked smile,
crooked stare,
thankfully
this Spirit brings
puffing nico-coals of
Straight-mindedness.
right for my cancer
I build between,
Yourself and I.

Nearing the re-printed Beast,
Closing in on a sour foam cylinder
of ‘safe’ separation.
Don’t give a though.
Why else buy matched sets of Twenty,
Keep Going
seems the plan.
The Hair,
the skin,
the lung,
What have they done?
Un-responsible,...

Craving More out of Life

40 hours is killing me
yet, without it kills me too.
I don’t know what to do,
Do you?
Giving my everything to scrape
The bottom of some made up barrel,
While I’m constantly scared
that the massive mess of the careless will let me go,
So I keep going, and over-time
I’m showing less growth.

Trying to add some meaning
To the gleaning, 
fading waste of short time,
The crime of rhyming is chiming
Towards its final toll,
and I’ve lost track of the goal
that I used to Know so well.

I don’t write for an audience.
I don’t write for some insane internal seance.
I write ‘cause I don’t know what else
to do..?!..

Customer Service

Does receipt deceit help you feel
complete?
Repeatedly defeated
by the transactions
you’ve “needed”.

You’ve been greeted,
seated, 
treated well
as a guest of the store,
given service at the door
and on the floor.
While we acted as if
we adored you,
we awarded you savings,
we fed you all of your cravings,
yet you’re dead set on raving
to us enslaved “Millennials”
and behaving
Entitled as S%!^,
cursing and spitting and
Expecting pity because you didn’t get your way,
while we’re waving &
saying, “Have a nice day!”

Security Service

The stank of the bank is ranked first 
for the worst
‘cause our world is cursed
by their bursts of imbalances and 
collapses 
causing global
painful anal prolapses,
my synapses don’t sense
why we might die
to the dollar sign &
fall to the lies 
from the other side,
that always cross the line,
rupturing the mind
corrupting all I find
abducting accounts that amount to a massive miscount
eventually erupting into a mountain of insanity,
while I observe on, inhaling ounces of kind,
as inherited deposits, rob us, with
bankruptcies all the time.

Revolution?

The 10 o’clock repetitive sedative
so meditative..
causing creative
frustrated
words to learn to turn this burn back,
adjourned to the dantian that
can’t contain
this soul fire rain, I
can’t complain,
I’ve been ordained sane by the
plain of people
locked up in their steeple
talking over the evils of gains
only coming out to
campaign on cocaine,
to mock and to blame
with every emotion feigned,
Showing No Shame,
the insane main power plays a diva's game
with distractions
to keep us entertained,
abstraction refractions to rot our brains,

our reaction should be More Than the Same.

A Rhyme for Today

Someone please pinch me, 
I’m finally not flinching,
not used to my way of inch by inching
getting me anywhere,
Still I share my cares to nothing but air,
still unaware,
but at least the clots are cleansing.

Mind Business

Sit down, and See, son, 
life is not about fun,
more so, money and time,
getting you a clear mind
and making you Blind
behind your skull rind,
‘cause you have an imbalance to be sorted
then distorted 
by trial and error
until you’ve snorted
Away the cares
and become less Aware.

just to Be Clear,
that’s why We’re Here.
We Mined Your Business.
Dig You Up,
Sell you Out,
no Need To Shout
About which Side it Effects
or your insecure s**t,
deal with it.

We’re Just Doing Business.

We got what you need, 
                    you silly fiends,
We prescribe
                 Dope to the mean

           ...

The Foundation of Frustration

I’m spent
I meant to dent the demon, be bent
cemented and blended,
discontented ventilation,
twisted mental patient
underwent reorientation,
Innervating 
cerebral innovations

 
New Sensations
New Neural Narration

might be mutation or a
fixation on formation,
so Starved & Sedated 
Stationed here yet
Still in fear of Stagnation
constant feelings for migration
circadian circulation
cause for celebration
dire dehydration &
wired donations to damnation
emulations of expiration,
tired of extorting explanations
for an intelligent infestation,
I’m a skeleton in civilization,
time for Meditation
in the Mountains.

~ If this poem frustrated you too, then it has done its job. Welcome to my Now. ~

Abandoned Starbucks Cup

Another abandoned
filthy cliche, 
left astray
laying displayed on the highway,
as if to say
Our American Way
is decadent and hollow.