Lifelong Recession [Today's News Poem, September 20, 2010]
Ghost in straight lines.
What can you touch?
Red hair was fine,
You shambling crutch.
Aging balloon,
Plump in your youth,
Sagging joints croon
Familiar pain truths.
Glass at your desk
Threaded on string,
Next to grotesque
And silvery rings.
Process, not art
Rescues your wits;
Otherwise parts
Would rust—you would quit
Struggling; shriek
While you await
Buses and speak
With bitterest traits.
Nobody loves
Canvass-clad maids.
Pigeons, not doves,
Shall offer you shade.
Margins erupt
Quietly. Fate
Can't interrupt
This desperate freight:
Artist of lipid,
Ritual scapegoat,
Vanquished insipid
Blossom of rote.
“The US recession lasted 18 months and was the most prolonged since World War II, a report has concluded. ”
– BBC, 20 September 2010 Last updated at 11:59 ET
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-11376589
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Showing posts with label September 20 2010. Show all posts
Showing posts with label September 20 2010. Show all posts
Monday, September 20, 2010
Lifelong Recession [Today's News Poem, September 20, 2010]
Labels:
18 month recession,
71 year recession,
anti-news,
Khakjaan Wessington,
old maid,
quiet desperation,
September 20 2010
Vapor Threat-Management [#twitterfoundpoem,September 20, 2010]
Vapor Threat-Management [#twitterfoundpoem,September 20, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
being a dead employee ought to count for something:
one count of receiving all the paperwork
and one count of BO.
the boss caught wind of the massive
body odor sitting directly in front of him.
thanks, dead kid with the body odor of roasted dust.
thanks boss, for the trial period.
it is not cool,
But we will make it cool
and the office will smell of wilted flowers
and roasted, Rotting, Bloated, Corpse.
Return to Toylit
Subscribe in a reader
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
being a dead employee ought to count for something:
one count of receiving all the paperwork
and one count of BO.
the boss caught wind of the massive
body odor sitting directly in front of him.
thanks, dead kid with the body odor of roasted dust.
thanks boss, for the trial period.
it is not cool,
But we will make it cool
and the office will smell of wilted flowers
and roasted, Rotting, Bloated, Corpse.
Return to Toylit
Subscribe in a reader
Labels:
#twitterfoundpoem,
Khakjaan Wessington,
office productivity,
rotten carbon,
September 20 2010,
wilted flowers
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