The SparkA Chapter by Kenneth The Poet
They exist at all
levels, idiots of great height and heavy mass. Like God with super sight, they permeate the thin membranes called normal. Mouth-breathing f***s that could kill millions with a swift, wrongful button push. And for some reason, they always shine while the mole people work away. Work away their days for the pitiful pittance, the almighty green. They are the moles of this nation, digging the holes that the f***s cannot. Smart managers are not the norm, just a lousy dime per foul dozen. They are elephant s**t in the front room punchbowl, a two-for-one sale. In the backwater s**t-splats, stupidity is not lucidity. The non-teachers live in the front office playing the figurehead role. And they make sure-fire decisions that would leave a coal vein smoldering. Pink elastic tape and white gauze bind the torn flesh to the skin. A watermark for how their fixes are only temporary ones. That maybe a sign that a place is too far gone to have salvation. Even then, who says beginnings from scratch will yield anything better? Stupidity is the root after all and that is lucidity. The spark may inspire, yet all sparks can ignite the most terminal flames. © 2012 Kenneth The PoetReviews
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2 Reviews Added on April 21, 2012 Last Updated on April 21, 2012 AuthorKenneth The PoetBismarck, NDAboutKenneth The Poet is an optimist wrapped in the candy shell of moroseness and cynicism. He lives between the two parallels marked 46 and 49, all while living in the state marked 39. He pretends that he.. more..Writing
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