I met up with my friend Griffin yesterday evening.
Okay, so, in reality he’s a bit less feathered than that, but whatever.
We got on the train, and then realized we had no idea where we were going, so then he said “Hey, there’s a poetry slam/open mic thing happening tonight. Do you want to go to that?”
Yes. Yes I do.
I haven’t written much lately, but I’m excited to get back into it.
So, some poetry. This one’s a bit older, but whatevs. It’s called “Cubicle Dreams” (Working Title)(They are pretty much all, *always* working titles).
Dust crumbles away to land on the keyboards of self-righteous anger
content to burn itself out
on the infinite oblivion of electrons
that bounce with artificial light form screen to screen
infecting minds with the siren call of apathy
the walls close in
the world is shrinking
the sky is falling
taking the cities with it.
Bringing down buildings and houses and trees
until all that’s left
is the flickering flourescent light
of cubicle dreams
and black/white binary lives.
Voices sound silently
hiding behind capslocked intentions
idealism is funneled directly into the flames
so that commentators without spellcheck can pass judgmentf
along with super sexy russian babes
and the full movies that can be seen for free.
Click the link,
see where it takes you
to another flat empty page that can’t even be turned
to another glowing surreal plane
that can fulfill your every fantasy, sate every whim
except for those nights when all you actually want is to be touched by someone
someone real, whose breath will warm your hair.
Someone to walk down unknown pathways and cast a second shadow.
So let go of your mice and go look for squirrels.
Step out of the door and into every thing that could be
step out of your shoes and feel the earth
look outside and see the status of the world
not more empty words on empty pages
to be filled with icons of thumbs
like the great coliseum.
Idealism is an unarmed gladiator
competing against the faceless masses
who after all these years
are still thirsting for blood.
The button clicks and the chanting thunders
All around the world and throughout time.
Critical Hit! Kill Shot! Blue Screen of Death!
Get your ass off your computer
the world spins
and people sit in the seats
waiting to be entertained.