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Said the man,
Inquired the dark-haired femme fatale,
the decaying hard-boiled detective,
the stay-at-home dad,
the soccer mom.
Say this, say that -
speak your mind and not your heart,
speak negative and not positive,
because lying never got anybody anywhere
(except down the street to buy a pack of pall malls and a 32)
Modern day beat poet,
hypocritical oxymoron,
take out the oxy and buy some oxy-clean;
thanks to Billy Mays I'm now just a moron.
Sentences run together with no puncuation or continuation or even line breaks and would you look at what i did there simply writing down what i'm writing about
Nobody listens to the long-haired handicapped hippie when he says he wants some change but they listen to the scraggled dirty crack addict with teeth missing from him and his imaginary friend's fight the other night
(kimbo slice and john bones)
without quotations everything he says simply becomes babbling nonscensical sentences spewed forth from betwixt chapped broken lips and the man in the wheel chair sits lonely underneath the street lamp singing patiently to his dead dog at his feet
a stronger bond than gorilla glue but without the sticky mess afterwards.
listen to me and listen good
we need to move to the hood
where at least all of the people some of the time give change to the people who need a rhyme
and those people give change to the rich people in the form of
let's say
a good old fashioned beat down
bum fights recorded on mediocre 4 megapixel phone cameras
posted up on the web for people to comment on
while they don't realize that very same bum was the one they passed up on their way to the gas station
three states away on a road trip with their college buddies with a keg in the back filled with nitroglycerin and hydrous oxide
yes admittedely i'm probably making this up
but i merely listen to the conversations of people who i would never see again if it weren't for that lonely wheel chair man and his dog
'round and 'round i go where i stop nobody knows
but perhaps that's for the best
sorry for the long story
here's all i have
seventy five cents and a denny's 100$ gift card
well would you look at that my holiday inn membership card and my room key both fell into your pocket
i wonder where they went while i roll up the windows in my car and wave at you goodbye
(driving off down the road thinking nothing of the encounter and leaving the moon behind sunlit street lamps flickering idly while a goat bleats in the yard of a neighbor)

18 Aug 12

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(153 more poems by this author)

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