Thank you for the stylus and the robot,
for the peach and the pear
for the plum
and the apple tree.
For me it was more than fair, since I have no memories of torture.
Even after the torture, I felt it was somewhat kind
because I discovered someone and something beyond beautiful
even though it should have been a plastic rose.
There, now you know my life.
If it was written in some book
than I can do nothing but thank you,
the only thing I am leery of any longer
are medical text books and sex
since I am a heterosexual outcast
I don't practice marriage any longer
nor even dating.
I must be single in my solitude
but it is far worse I learned
than to be the right person in the wrong place
right now I could weep
because I feel like a gossip columnist
wondering who created us and me
clad in some kind of invulnerable leather
they shot me twice in Santa Cruz
and I didn't die like a cowboy
I have to thank being punk rock
because without it I would probably aspire to being some type of billionaire pig
who in their lifestyle only gleaned part of the truth of what currency should be
and in the end
I think T.S. Eliot
would appreciate his own wasteland
unlike the foul demons in hell
who thought they were immune to pedophilia
like the long range ballistic missiles
that were headed towards America
until now.
Signed, Z
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