hard work

I have been wrestling with this one for a while. It's about my mother. Sometimes I stare at the lake when a line goes wrong.

Beloved Floofylimbs, How I Pine Like Damn

Floofylimbs, I live in a cheery house of rafts,
wherein I dwell on sex and speaker systems,
all the livelong whistlin' "shlam-zee-du!"
and "up with methsicles!"

I make sure to reck for heavy heavy siphoning,
and eat my grilled tomatoes from a can:
a tin assembly stapled by a Persian
lacking ankle socks.

Charlie from the DragonCon insists I scrimp —
owing to my debt of twenty Pogs. But hark!
All day the pitbulls squish the avocados,
all day a real bridge is paced

to grind away through clomps
the limpid bargains of frayed caps or county lines.
Yet I never dally in such onion-ridden frowns: every
eye I own is totally into that Kenny Chesney nostalgia.

What's with tongue aflame with shitty shitty bang bang?
We have a world of Specials, of Extravaganzas, of Megaman!
Why, Tim has stayed up all night selling fish in Everquest and
truly so did all the garden jingle at his feat! No powdered eggs!

So prowl with me through the Raley's parking lot, the bumper cars, and
train your spork to slice the scrim. For I did not buy half a dozen
Gatorades to see your rain shoes near the oven. This is the year
that we — like — yeah, the year — you know — Oreos.


Mike Young said...

Wait, wait, all this poem says is that I'm hungry.


I'm a failure.

I have failed.

A.S. Galvan said...

I like the fifth stanza a lot.

Alex said...

this is truly glorius like the rain and gasoline and a ball of kittens. you are truly the new voice of god.

Jess said...

Failure does not "live in a cheery house of rafts" and failure does not "make sure to reck for heavy heavy siphoning and eat grilled tomatoes from a can" and failure does not know "Charlie from the DragonCon" or even know what a "spork" is.

Have a sandwich.

Bryan said...

this is a stupid poem and you are a stupid person.

you said that last night. i just added the stupid person part.

those poor, poor people in your poetry class.

Mike Young said...

It is a stupid age, my friend. Not misery but the broadcast of misery -- both actual and self-constructed -- has reached an apex and requires purging, purging every now and then of the gabbling absurdity that slops up.

Mike Young said...

Also, those people are out of touch with the real world, which does indeed exist.

1) They have not heard of Kenny Chesney.
2) It is impossible to understand the mindset of 70% of America without awareness of Kenny Chesney.
3) These people are being bad lovers of humanity (poets) if they refuse to understand the mindset of 70% the people with whom they share a country.

Mike Young said...

And thank you Alex, Angela, Bryan and Jessica for the kindly kindly comments. :)

Bryan said...

stop posting comments.

Mike Young said...

Go fuck yourself.