The Mezunian

Die Positivität ist das Opium des Volkes, aber der Spott ist das Opium der Verrückten

Got Blues You, Senior Tumwater

♪ O, O, O, homeless woman eating snow… ♫
“Shut up, hippie!
Can’t you see I’m trying to eat my Doughie-Os?
I can’t eat my Doughie-Os when your moaning
makes my stomach shrank.”
♪ Some kids have to eat their feet for midnight snacks… ♫
“Ack! Now you’ll done did it:
now my eyes & nose are full o’ liquid.
I’ll ne’er get ’em out;
I’m suing you for the whole gout.”
♪ The moon ne’er shone me no love,
so I burned myself to death in the desert sun… ♫
“I don’t have to listen to this guff:
this bar was buttered bread till you scraped it too rough.
If you don’t give me back my veiny lung…
then I’m b-gonna take myself to ‘nother rug—
& it’ll be groovy orange like tangerines;
you can’t put that rage in your machine.”
♪ The lampshades are on fire & I’ve got nowhere to go… ♫
“Why don’t you sing ’bout problems people can relate to?—
like the itch on my toe.
They shouldn’t allow it to grew.
It just isn’t true…
O, puke stains!”

Everyone’ll dead died ’cause they skipped their Friday fire ‘scape lessons, being too busy with their boyfriend, Demetrius, whom they know doesn’t truly love them, but they’re just not ready to break it off just yet, just give them a few weeks to decide.

Posted in Poetry