shoulder tap from the top

dearest fallow followers,

 

the gigantic wee of We

may appear as alien slumlords

in heather gray suits

with fruit-colored neckties,

but we are only better versions of you;

we are actually

your saviors.

 

give us a kiss, pumpkin-face!

lap the infection

of garbled sub-gospel

from the collagen pumped

lips of the holy roly-poly

static status apparatus

and you’ll see.

you’ll be set free.

 

you can do it champ!

slit open your milky

mouth wounds,

re-gullible-ize

your gullible eyes,

and hype the hypnotic

hypodermic worm

that squirms your thoughts

fearword; farweird, forward

via snake-tronic satellites

in melted medicinal spoon-sized

bytes of potion/poison/passion

passivity/piss.

 

do it now!

take it all, until you soul-gag.

take it deep like the dirty

little world you are!

swallow the delusional deluge:

feel the tickles and pricks

of our imaginary pitchfork tandem.

 

and, remember little honey-lambs,

thou shalt not question

thy sheepherder or piss off thy pimps.

all rights and privileges

are temporary.

 

show us your softness!

be ye prattle prodded

to flight or fight fright show

scenarios machinegunned

from the mysterious motherboard

techno-tit

draped in retrofit lingerie.

 

be free!

be collected, be corrected

you naughty goose-fleshed prey

to convenient confusion,

pray to the fear illusions,

buy into the gadget explosion,

expose your underbelly

to the handsome beast tamer

with the siamese coaxial whip.

 

you will be assimilated

or annihilated.

there is no new way sweety.

no higher calling for your kind.

 

crawl to daddy!

conform to canned wisdom

or confirm your planned deviation.

there is no alternative;

all escape routes have been

jammed by the damners

and spammers that hammer

the martyr nails home.

 

we love you hard!

we love you like garden gloves.

deflect the thorns,

keep our hands clean,

sink into the average mean

and wallow the necrotic-patriotic

lies that buy the groceries.

 

be owned.

be honed.

be liberated.

 

smile for the camera. 

this glorious moneyshot of honesty

will self-destruct

in 5-4-3-2-

love you-bye.

 

now wipe your face,

and return to the dinner table

like a suitable slag!

wave that pretty flag and sparkle high

or die.

 

may God Bless you!

but only because we say so.

 

Reviews

[K.C. Zbryk]

I like how it sounds like you are talking to a child through the entire poem but the things that you discuss arent for children. This is for a society so sedated that they really are nothing more than children. Brilliant writing and the closing line was worthy of the title moneyshot.

[Victoria PoetryBunny]

Woah... this is definitely different, and really quite interesting, you seemed to pack so much into this, well said.

[Tkess]

The s**t that politicians, media, corporations et. all are jamming down our throats is just to fatten us up for the slaughter. For their gain and our loss. This is the view of the world from the little guy right before he is crushed underfoot by the giants of corporate city, USA.

[Ruth]

I am always astounded by the depths you reach...something to bite into and make it real..never a moment I don't find something through your work to make me reel!
xoxo

[Chris]

Which lies need to be focused upon - and who decides whose truth is true?

[Tim Lion]

Amen and glory be! I think you've pegged the a******s in charge quite nicely pumpkin face. lol!

Some of your best stuff.

[freelancejouster]

if this is as effortless as you make it look, i am completely in awe of you. the whimsical style and the completely at odds message. wonderful.

[Robin]

again , your words and philosophy and eye upon things called humanity mix into a sobering brew . your work is conscious raising and speaks a truth that goes deeper than words.

[Kenneth The Poet]

This is like George Carlin's "Advertising Lullaby" and "Modern Man" meets the minds behind "They Live". In other words, a piece for the ages.