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Walmart love story by Kenne Printer Friendly

She awoke,

drearily dissecting daydreams from a daylit night in Alaska

Cynicism aimed at her clan's attempt to play act as beacons of light

shining at unnatural 22-hour shifts

and darkest despair returned most potent in two hour shifts

Disgust for the nuclear family made her learn to love the bomb

Shovel close at hand

unearthing up her soiled past and make gay bones dance

in her track shoes and trench coats, teen tribal jewelry and neck ropes, ties

a sexy little tomboy, a mod mona lisa,

unfinished attempt at androgyny,

hair cut short according to her

“to help in a fight”

met her match made in the depths of hell

he hated school but loved the bell

chaos played by ear so he drifted to arson

because for him, the red alarm chimed joy

And from there he went.

Posturing as the person prepared to poison Paul just to peeve Peter

Hollow-heart costume too tight and comfy

so he became a monster to fit it,

embraced the store bought, rubber faced evil

anti-christened himself Walter

and stashed immolating tricks up his sleeve.

To his credit, he learned a kind of love

but this is one step forward permitted to a paraplegic

his last stand as he rolls back the price of his soul

Corruption stemmed from our consumption,

fair discussions end in concussions

one step forward on a paraplegic's last stand

watch as he rolls back the price of her soul

dandelion devil smiling a fang hidden grin stained black with blood

oh beady eyed freak

his motto

“shit happens, but only for the meek”

they inherit the earth, but just the debt,

decision time, for obliteration and resurrection are each at hand

ball your fist or upend your palm, little woman

submit to destruction or thrash for for your ashes

as you drift off to sleep, and hope you wake up a phoenix

When murder, motive, modus operandi, and melting point all come in degrees

Where you can't enjoy forest for the immolated trees

Why parents never mention that birds eat bees



Filed under Poet's Corner on 12/21/09


Comments:
Entered By Ray From Austin
2009-12-21 05:30:21

I'm a sucker for last lines, and that one's slick. Not to detract from the rest, of course.


Entered By Kenne From Atop a futon in Houston
2009-12-23 09:31:03

Thanks Ray, glad to hear someone liked one of my literary "Little Engines that couldn't". I have an electronic graveyard full of things along this vein.



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