[lit-ideas] Monday's SUNDAY POEM
- From: "Mike Geary" <atlas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: "LIT-IDEAS" <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Mon, 6 Jun 2005 01:16:44 -0500
LEFT OVERS
The dust of the dead
settles on the tongues
of the scholars of war
telling what for.
Old Ella Mae,
consumptive,
cough and died
pawn tickets still in her hand
Pink camisoled, curlers in his hair,
he stretched his sweet limbs and yawned.
"Dawn is such a drag," he complained.
God got bored
thinking good thoughts,
created Satan saying::
"Let the party begin."
My hands are as tough as the husk.
The softness of corn silk confuses me.
So, do you come here often?
Here in the city the trees are confused,
yield yellow leaves that rattle down the streets
in shifting winds. Here there is no belief.
But I've seen forest floors
years deep.
Never stop to listen
to a mockingbird in the morning,
never ever, no, don't do it,
cover your ears, speak gibberish to yourself,
just get to work.
Repeat after me: "GNP".
Love is like a Cadillac that's newly bought in June.
Love is a Trojan Horse full of fraternities.
Love is Friday especially to Robinson Crusoe.
Love is Ritchie's foxglove eaten raw with a little sugar.
Love is a bucketful of fish guts.
Love is like a refrigeration compressor -- just trust me.
Love is a religious experience gone good.
Love is to blame.
People are stupid.
Society is stupid.
The President is stupid.
God is stupid.
I am smart.
I don't fart
when with a girl.
Mike Geary
left over in
Memphis
------------------------------------------------------------------
To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off,
digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html
Other related posts:
- » [lit-ideas] Monday's SUNDAY POEM
