Work
kills us.
With every second
we waste our lives
there,
the more meaningless
our lives become
elsewhere.
There must be
another way.
The solution:
Why not let us drink?
Yes,
let us be drunk
and merry at our jobs.
It beats being
pissed off
and on the verge on tears.
The advantages:
production value,
customer service approval,
employee approval,
would all skyrocket
whichever corporation
would be willing to do this.
They could hire
top notch drunks,
fully functional alcoholics
to get the job done.
People would be lining up
to get at job there,
especially me.
This is my proposal
to all corporations
and I am willing sign
any sort of insurance papers
you want me to sign,
just do it
and let us work,
and sit back,
you fat pig,
and watch your filthy money grow.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Monday, July 23, 2012
Some Prefer a Tornado
We could hear
the sound of death
coming toward us,
coming
to tear the world
apart.
Beneath our feet
the ground
threatened to open
and swallow our souls.
We held on
for dear life.
The walls
moved
unnaturally
and shook our portraits,
our sanity,
down,
the floor
was an ocean,
moving in waves.
We were drowning in fear.
It went on
and on,
and I thought,
we might have to
live like this
forever.
Then,
silence crept up,
time froze,
the earth was still.
No one died,
no one had a scratch,
we even
cracked a smile,
and began to put the portraits
back up.
Our house was saved.
Some are not so fortunate.
Some are burned alive,
some have their skin ripped off by the wind,
some drown with their children,
some freeze and remain frozen in hell.
We have the grip of death
shaking our homes,
destroying our precious valuables,
but it's ok,
materials mean
nothing
to us
here in sunny California.
We prefer it.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Stick Around A Bit, Will Ya?
She jammed a large
potato peeler
right into her jaw
and worked it up
higher and higher,
trying to reach her brain.
The blood,
he said,
the blood,
pure red
and terrifying.
His dream was about
resurrection.
He was a dolphin
and something or someone
was showing him
exactly what would happen
to his mother,
to his family,
if he pursued
his dream
too quickly.
Hopefully
he recognizes this
and realizes that
the torment he faces
almost everyday
is nothing
compared
to what we will feel
when he is gone.
potato peeler
right into her jaw
and worked it up
higher and higher,
trying to reach her brain.
The blood,
he said,
the blood,
pure red
and terrifying.
His dream was about
resurrection.
He was a dolphin
and something or someone
was showing him
exactly what would happen
to his mother,
to his family,
if he pursued
his dream
too quickly.
Hopefully
he recognizes this
and realizes that
the torment he faces
almost everyday
is nothing
compared
to what we will feel
when he is gone.
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