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low head room

hi there,
your impossible homework
failure to be backwards compatible;
someone brought bagels to work.
meek man
skeletal man, bony and spiralling ever upwards
hates the ritz.
we fly over skyscrapers,
your hair, a leathal weapon
staring down
at all the overly made up
putas, with mini skirts
and rain bonnets.
your mom is nice
wrapped in three layers of cellophane
singing the blues
lounging on a sexy black piano
in the upside down room.
in this crowded mound of earth,
in this haystack
where some make hell and harmony,
mother nature's many faces
crease as she smiles
her fatsuit attempting to encapsulate
all the lions
and imitation jungle lords.
i'm trying to shut up
but i think
i will suffer
a denial of service attack.

3 Mar 07

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(151 more poems by this author)

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