|Click Click Delete
Author: xxTunstall Chickxx PM
Always grappling with the correct and the politically so / we are the chairs of our hate groups / forged with our sweat, our blood and tears / torching our confidences / like gasoline inflames our desire for world peace. Slam poem.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Words: 295 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 05-24-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2917571
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Click Click Delete
With shrapnel as our prophets
and bombs in our palm lines
we can now predict the collisions in the skies
of birds on windows.
We men have long been masters of our tepid fate
and yet, somehow,
we have fallen so far from morality
that we must search its meaning
in our online dictionaries.
We have burned all the bridges of
idealism without ever crossing them
into the trash folder,
click click delete.
Always grappling with the correct
and the politically so
we are the chairs of our hate groups
forged with our sweat, our blood and tears
torching our confidences
like gasoline inflames our desire
for world peace
(give it to us and
we won't flood your markets
with second-grade maple syrup).
We are at fault
like children are at fault,
with hands over our eyes,
playing hide-and-seek with our conscience
Ready or not, here we come.
Better hide your mothers and your guns
and God forbid there be any signs...
green-and-orange NDP will get you shot
didn't you know?
Freedom of expression is only allowed
at one's discretion, misconception
will not be tolerated.
Thank God for the buddy system –
they've got your back –
they'll name their children after you and then
condemn you over Facebook chat
disliking your status like a slap to the face
uploading pictures that will get you fired.
And they'll pose questions
asking: what do you see when you look to the skies?
I see collisions of fireworks and bombs
lighting the night like Christmas trees
and those blinded birds sliding
off apartment windows
like paper cranes and Hanukkah
into the trash folder
click click delete.