Why don't you
ask me how I feel?
I'm not telling.
The noise I build
in the piss factory basement
dreams to block out
the hammer drone
of insipid discourse
ringing in every constant corner,
draped with bunting,
and troglodyte ideologies.
Your models of rational choice
give me the deep blues.
The obseqious and bellicose
canvas the stale air
with schoolyard recess sloganeering.
You can all go to hell
and I can go deaf
bleeding into the strings
that sing you there.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Tell Me When It's Over
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6 comments:
Ever play that old arcade video game, Trog? It's fun.
Trog? Never heard of it. Tron is good fun though.
In Trog the player gets to be a dinosaur clubbing cave men (troglodytes) dead. Doh!
My brother's Tron action figure made it with my behemoth-sized Cher doll.
Cool, huh?
Oddly enough, I had a dream in my youth about something similar only it involved a Micronaught action figure, Cher and a dugout cannoe.
uh, 'canoe'.
uh, 'canoe'.
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