Monday, December 05, 2011


Walking apprehensive through a
concrete jungle
lost in translation lost in my youth,
I feel myself slipping away.
My thoughts lack luster; my words
lack truth.
Damn this socialist plot! go down
with the ship!
Figuratively speaking of course, for
there is no ship.
There is only a polyurethane taxi
waiting to drive,
through the bacterial and viral
streets of America.
Putrid garbage flows violently over
Stench of political atrocities. Smells like hormone induced poultry!
America I have two dollars, what will
that buy?
Fame, fortune, a Mcdouble with fries?
Deserted abyss of destruction, the
waters of deception
quench Corporate thirsts. Philosophically moving
we seek retribution through a barrel
of a gun. I don’t know why?
I don’t know what from?
Infested apples hang aloft in a tree.
Suicidal thoughts come from money and
Ginormous debt, generous ignoramus.
Dammit I say to the concepts of day.
As I past a drunkard old fool oddly
named Shamus.
Bullcrap and Folly I whisper to thee;
as I sit on my stoop and wave goodbye
to the trees.

by K.G. Black

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