& once again we do not face
the shit coming down no one sees
metallic manna like an anvil, axe,
shipped caesium-137 to teach us
manners Titanic-wise

there’s a house out on the ocean
dear Yoko, dear Yoko,
alone as a kid on Christmas Island

there’s a ship up on the garage
dear Hiro, dear Hiro,
pointing inland like a dream

people stunned in the glare
of headlights from the oncoming
choppers of fate, fatalists
with paper masks that do sweet f.a.
but hide faces frozen in disbelief

no one told me, eyes bulging,
my heated toilet seat leads to this
a plant exploding as I wipe my arse

oh this will all disperse
the white coats sing
this will all disperse, tra la la
all over the planet, our kids
blips in stats futures writhing
unseen by cameras, normality
returning like a poker-faced
rash of hedge funds

we be not collective, ever,
let it burst, more
for me at i-melt.com
so give me
that remote


~ by Peter Lach-Newinsky on March 21, 2011.

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