Archive for category The Poetry of Death

They Shoot Gorillas, Don’t They?

gorilla-irresistable-beauty

I do not want to talk about The Gorilla,

I want to not talk about The Gorilla.

I want to talk about not talking about The Gorilla,

I want to not talk about wanting to talk about not talking about The Gorilla.

I want to talk about The Gorilla,

Without having to talk about The Gorilla.

 

I want to be known as someone who doesn’t talk about The Gorilla,

By people who talk about The Gorilla,

As well as by people who do not talk about not talking about The Gorilla,

Along with the people who talk about not talking about The Gorilla.

 

I cannot talk about The Gorilla.

 

I cannot not talk about The Gorilla,

Without having to talk about The Gorilla,

In order to not talk about The Gorilla,

Among people who both talk and do not talk about The Gorilla.

 

She talks about The Gorilla,

In order to talk about The Gorilla.

I talk about her talking about The Gorilla,

In order to talk about not talking about The Gorilla.

 

We both talk about The Gorilla.

 

She doesn’t know not to talk about The Gorilla,

When she’s talking about The Gorilla.

I know that she doesn’t know to not talk about The Gorilla,

When talking about The Gorilla.

She should know better than to talk about The Gorilla,

When talking about The Gorilla.

 

He knows that I know that talking about her not talking about The Gorilla,

Is talking about The Gorilla.

He talks about me not talking about knowing that talking about not talking about The Gorilla,

Is talking about The Gorilla.

 

He talks about me not knowing that not talking about The Gorilla,

And talking about her talking about The Gorilla,

Are talking about The Gorilla.

 

We’re all talking about talking about or not talking about people talking or not talking about The Gorilla.

 

Even when we don’t talk about not talking about talking about not talking about The Gorilla,

We talk about The Gorilla.

4 Comments

Willow Tree

hashima-hell-1303852309

(I’m lucky to know a young man by the name of Aidan O’Reilly.  He’s an incredibly talented spoken word artist.  This is his work)

I’m calmly sitting on this willow tree where i can see things clearly
Angry
But I’ll be banging my head against walls till somebody hears me
Up above the clouds
Looking down at the crowds that surround you
I’d pray this message got through but i never got to learn how to
So let’s all pray for change just to see our own reflections
Admire your looks in blood stained mirrors
Then look around at this ghost town that has drowned you
Run from the sound of the bodies hitting the ground
And wonder why they all fell through
Ignore the cracks and
Drive over broken backs of dead bodies to get to your America
They built the streets that they bleed in
It matches the seats in your cars
It matches the ink on your receipts
Their souls are lost in the stars
Watching
While you proudly give your cash
To corrupt corporations that run this nation
And hire children overseas but to hell with immigration
And i don’t know what you were expecting
But the devil is a white man in a business suit
Collecting

Can you see us?
The kids above the clouds looking down
Disappointed
Dying for your dinner
Questioning who the hell was appointed
Capitalist
Why are we okay with this?
We feed a machine that eats us daily
Speaking in dollars signs
Translated by consumption
Pumping in prescriptions to their children
Robbing them of their chemistry
Silencing their destiny
Forcing young minds to make televisions sets
You’ll find them entangled in suicide nets
Forgetting that they’re living behind Star-spangled bars
But we’ll just keep watching
Up here in the stars

So we just look down from our willow tree
Sadly
Wondering why we’re killing each other
Over land and people created equally
And our tears rain down
To water your plants
While you fill our lungs with smoke from your plants
Sending sin to the wise
Setting fire to willow oak skies
You are damning your deities
Sacrificing your sun
For oil driven dreams
But please…

Can you see us
Up above the clouds
Sitting calmly on our willow tree
Peacefully
Wishing you could see that our leaves are leaving me
Unwillingly
But let’s just sit down
And wait for around
To celebrate our American apocalypse
Ignoring the facts
While embracing our grave
So let’s just relax
And shout into the unremitting darkness
Home of the Brave!

4 Comments

Proposed Lyrics To Metallica’s “Unforgiven Four”

metallica

“Yes, we sell out. Every seat in the house. Every time we play. Anywhere we play.”

-Jason Newsted on VH-1’s Behind The Music: Metallica

Unforgiven Four

(Song begins sounding almost exactly like Unforgiven 3 in the hopes of capitalizing on earlier Metallica work and ensuring that the landscaping on Mr. Hetfield’s home in Malibu will be paid for well into the next century)

How could we know

Writing four-minute ballads-ah,

Would change our lives for-ever-ah?

Hired Bob Rock to change our course,

Sold trillions of records-ah,

Caused old metalheads

Senseless pain,

In our quest for Bentleys.

Been confused,

Always confused,

By the rage they’re feeling.

We…ARE…A…COM-MOD-ITY,

That’s…..what…you…want us….to be,

(What you want us to be)

(Chorus)

How come if we suuuuu-ck,

We make more money this way?

Stopped playing no-name clubs,

You should see our 401-Ks!

How can we go wrong?

This is the American Way,

How can we sell out?

This is how the game play—-dah.

People like to whine,

About how things have changed,

Distracts them from their lives,

To us it just seems strange.

We do what people waaaaa-nnn-tttt,

We have become unsure,

If we’ve always been a business,

What should we be Un-forgiven Forrrrrrrrr?

(Mediocre instrumental part that ham-handedly transitions from cannibalizing The Unforgiven 3 to regurgitating the first part of Unforgiven 2)

Lay beside me,

Try not to make me grin,

Commodity fetishism-mmmah,

Is surely not a sin.

We are rock icons,

We certainly do not care,

About your lives, about your ideas,

Just please don’t file share.

Lay Beside Me,

And I’ll tell you how things are done,

You act the part,

Hock an image,

None of this is true.

We are a consumer item

Just like Elmer’s Glue,

Well…they’ve been selling rock as revolution,

Since 1962,

If you can understand McDonald’s,

Then you understand what we do.

Yeah, you can understand what we do-ah!

(Chorus)

What we’ve done,

What we’ve sold,

You know the rules,

No one’s been rolled,

You hate the system,

But you participate too—ah.

Yeah…What we’ve felt,

What we’ve known,

Hegemonic mediocrity,

Etched in stone.

Behind our masks,

We are amused by youuuu-ah.

Before you call,

Lars a whore,

Then peddle your skills,

To buy seats on the floor,

Remind us again why you’re so pure,

And we’re The Un-forgiven Four.

(Mildly interesting but forgettable solo section that somehow meanders into a new chorus meant to put an end to this monstrosity of a song)

You think we’re old,

But we’ll survive,

In ten years you’ll get nostaligiccc-ah

Want to see us live,

Pay 400 dollars,

To hear us play The Unforgiven Five-ah.

Yeah…The Unforgiven…………..Five……

, , , , , , , ,

4 Comments

Shame

sadness

 

This poem was sent in by “just Brandie” or Brandie Barnes, an occasional contributor to the comment section.  I found it moving, authentic and poignant…

You spit love from your mouth, Within the very same breath you whisper hate unto me…..My ears hear your Shame….. Do you lie only to believe these so called truths which you never knew but forced me to bare such filthy loads just for you. Trembling from the icy cold fingers that Stab deep into my heart I whisper no shame…..I pity you. you were born with a defect never once in your life will you be beautiful…born ugly your decaying a bad apple through and through……so rotten from the very core you claim to have a heart. Ugliness from head to bottom of your non existing soul. So go ahead spit love again from your mouth and watch as I smile turn my head and walk away from hate. My ears don’t hear the whisper of your shame.

35 Comments

The Sick Among The Purell

Dirty-Hands

 

“I have so many selves, I cannot contain them all” –Kobo Abe

 

Never enough hand sanitizer

Bottles and bottles everywhere

But not a drop to drink

A bathtub filled with antiseptic

For the terminally dyspeptic

And still not enough to drown in

 

Never enough hand sanitizer

To kill the sin of germs

To kill the pain of waking

To kill the dissonance and consonance

Of everyday hell

 

Never enough hand sanitizer

To sting the wound into unbeing

All factors beyond the control

Of those who wish to vanquish

And be vanquished

 

Never enough hand sanitizer

To ebb the fatal tide

As the mass of men lead lives of desolate calculation

Never to emerge from slumber

Even in our waking nightmare

, , , , ,

6 Comments

TWERK DAT GHANDI

2f0046af-742d-4482-a20a-2c6df45b21d9

Announcer:  (A generic Midwestern radio voice straddles the line between sounding hip and offending sponsors by sounding too “edgy”)  We are back live on All The Hits Hot 107 The Flash.  Right now, we got that new song from rapper Lil Abner.  As you know, Lil Abner just broke up with his homies Yung Elderlyz and Kurt da Kiropractor from the multi-platnum selling hip hop group Dat Marketin’ Skeme.  And now, playaz and playettez, it’s time to TWERK DAT GHANDI……

(Standard hip hop beat plays behind an endless sample loop of Toni Basil’s “Mickey”)

WUT!!!!

WUT!!!!

WUT!!!!

WUT!!!!

TWERK DAT GHANDI!!!!!

TWERK DAT GHANDI!!!!!

TWERK DAT!!!!

TWERK DAT!!!!!

TWERK DAT GHANDI!!!!

Bald headed holy man

Ain’t got no Pakistan

Spizzard on a gin-sam

Wearin’ dem Pampers

Diana Moon Glampers

Got dirty clothes

Ghandi bring dem hampers

Ghandi like WUT

Tojo like WUT

WUT!!!!!!!

WUT!!!!!!

WUT!!!!

WUT!!!!

TWERK DAT GHANDI!!!!

TWERK DAT GHANDI!!!!

TWERK DAT!!!

TWERK DAT!!!

TWERK DAT GHANDI!!!!

G-G-G-ghandi in dat basement

Mixin’ up dat pavement

Thinkin’ ‘bout savement

Got a love fade back

Wearin’ dat snapback

Spleen like a relax

Drink some honey beeswax

Climin’ dem sleezstacks

Nero got no kneecaps

Ghandi like WUT

Broz Tito like WUT

WUT!!!!

WUT!!!!

WUT!!!!

WUT!!!!

TWERK DAT GHANDI!!!

TWERK DAT GHANDI!!!

TWERK DAT!!!

TWERK DAT!!!

TWERK DAT GHANDI!!!!!

Pound a ground licorice

Larva got dat chrysalis

Sippin’ on dat Sisyphus

Gold blackberry

Amoebic dysentery

Droppin’ dem bombs like

Matthew C. Perry

Obamacare survivor

Got dem Holy Diver

Runnin’ dat show like you

Sargent Shriver

Broken scapula

Count Dracula

Donatin’ dem kidneys

Jomo Kenyata

Mr. Roboto

Ghandi like WUT

Mussolini like WUT

WUT!!!!

WUT!!!!

WUT!!!!

WUT!!!!

TWERK DAT GHANDI!!!!

TWERK DAT GHANDI!!!!!

TWERK DAT!!!!

TWERK DAT!!!!

TWERK DAT GHANDI!!!!!

WUT!

TWERK DAT GHANDI

WUT!

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

5 Comments

I IS DAT GHANDI

main-qimg-67e4d6a0a31ca9ab5a49e01edf546f68

DEM PEACE FEELZ!!!!  AWWWWWWW!!!!!

Benevolence beNONviolence.  Peep DAT!

But dem sad times.  Dem sad sad timez.

Dat Ghandi SAD.

DAT Ghandi Cry.  Reelz teerz.

DO U EVEN FEELZ!!!!!!! (that irony has replaced irony as the new irony)

Lulz Hitler…U FAIL!  LOL!!!!! Rascist MUCH!  L8TR H8TR!!!!!

Inb4 Do U even PEACE?

DO U EVEN FEELZ!!!!!  (exhausted by the endless drumbeat of moronic repetition around you)

DEM GHANDI SLAMZ!!!!!!

DAT BRITI$$$$$$H!!!!       SMH.

I CAN HAZ PEICE FFS!!!!

I Is dAt GHANDI……Not Dat Nguyen! Dem Cowboyz FEELZ FTW!!!!

I Is dAT GHANDI and I haz come to free U but UB like WUT!

DO U EVEN FEELZ!!!!! (trapped in an absurd, endless comedy where no one gets the punchlines)

DO U EVEN FEELZ!!!!! (the bile rising in your throat at the state of the state of YOLOphoria)

DO U EVEN FEELZ!!!! (the overpowering stench of atrophied brains)

DO U EVEN FEELZ!!!!! (numb to the things and people around you)

DO U EVEN FEELZ!!!!! (tired of cliché-on-cliché violence)

DO U EVEN FEELZ!!!! (overwhelmed)

DO U EVEN FEELZ!!!! (exasperated)

DO U EVEN FEELZ!!!! (anything)

, , , , , , , , ,

4 Comments

%d bloggers like this: