Wednesday, December 9, 2009

The Exit is Lit

The exit is lit
The words do not come
The words are impotent
The words do not come.
The exit is:

"My father and I used to play a game"
He would say:
"Son, you go hide"
So I ran off
A giddy kid
Ducked under table cloth
Made myself hid,
Though he never came.

Did you Daddy!
"Ach du, Ach Du"
Hanging around
Like a singular shoe
Did you?

Alone I would stay
As the light would fade
My father, ah, well
It's all lies.
If I ever hid
Or sank,
He would find me and
Pull me out
Place me back on the boat.

"For the first time ever
I don't understand my television"

Flicking the channels
Attention span narrows
We are tools for advertisers.

The vapid, reality sluts of nothing.

There is uniformity
In this banality,
A Dule tree can be made
From any tree -
This is real uniformity.

I close the curtains
To kill the Sun.
Comrade Duch paces the halls
As he makes additions
To his crowded walls.

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