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Sunday, November 27, 2011

(untitled as of right now)

If there were a politician who ran on the slogan, "Gym, Tan, Laundry",
you'd be his or her number-one fan.
I can see you front and center in the crowd,
holding your sign aloft,
your Abercrombie jeans smothering your thighs
like you painted them on, just like you did your face.
Maybe for once in your life, you'd do something,
like become the candidate's PR go-to,
considering you already spend 9.72 hours per day
on Facebook, Twitter, and Myspace.
You'd be perfect:
taking promo picture's of your favorite politician,
interacting with her people - taking shot for shot together at the local bar,
your favorite snapshot being the one
with her head buried in the trashcan before 11 PM.

I'm sorry, am I offending you? Well, you offend me.

While your fellow students are being pepper sprayed,
your professors being ripped from the lines of a peaceful protest
by their hair,
you skip over the news coverage,
citing the fact, "it makes you sad",
as if it wore a legitimate excuse for ignorance.

Born with a silver spoon in your mouth,
you fear nothing of the world,
of your future,
because you believe your destiny has been paid in advance.
But what will you do when that spoon
goes sour in your mouth,
turning out to be nothing but pewter?

At least your puckered, twisted face will match that of the beaten and the broken for once in your life.


  1. Oooh! I love your writing. "silver spoon goes sour in your mouth turning out to be nothing but pewter?" Likey. Should that last line have been Match instead of math.

    I am going to recommend my poet friends to your blog.

  2. Thank you very much. And thanks also for catching the typo; I should have proofread a little more closely.