Exquisite Corpse, Open Mic, Spring 2014
London sits abandoned in a ruin of bacon,
the Prime Minister, a figure of shadows, sits; crying
Searching for what he had lost
Searching for all that slipped through the cracks
forgotten memories, half-hearted laughs
that like thunder’s crash rang through our ears
and like disease ripped through our very beings
destroying what might have been left of our sanity
with one of those oversized hammers from a carnival
and its bright neon colors
reflecting like sparks of butterflies
meandering through a field of stars
I gaze up and sigh.
“What a world to cast thee aside”
How could a world reject us so?
The pain of that world is now mine.
The word is nothing more than a sign
of the time of the time of the times
like a cat riding a bike in a box
They ask, “What sayeth thee, Mr. Fox”
and he replied “The transmitter sighs above the theology. The sugar reacts.”
It makes my body put up acts and ignore facts
that this game, is just an act
But try to have no regrets
Instead, aim to appreciate every magnificent mistake
And strive to savor every fabulous fault
The fault in our stars
is every cruel word
The eyes left closed see no trivialities
Because Pat Sajak represents everything that is wrong with AMERICA
but he’s a fan of the ‘Mats
Those fucking Mats. Who would be a fan of those Mats.
I hate those damn things. Hence why I became the prince of Chicago
Prince of Chicago more like Prince of Bel Air!
Now let’s do the Carlton! It’s a cool dance I swear!
Let’s not and say we did.
I’m 16 and pregnant and afraid.
Why do we have labels? Nothing confines a person more
Than having to live up to other people’s opinions
and expectations. It’s hard to keep up.
But it is very liberating to be yourself.
Don’t be afraid about stepping out of the box.
Uniqueness is key in this dull world.
Which transcends to normalcy,
and static blinds certain receivers.
But like synapse and neuron, I can
And I will control my mind like water or stone,
Leaving all memories, near or far behind
the the the the the the the
man said to his daughter,
“…and that was the last orgy I went to.”
“The number of rubber ducks in that. exhilarating”
It was simply exhilarating
The round, brash uncut fuck of it all
Lemme get what I got done already
I have too much to do: stress.
But I’m not lucky, I’m blessed: yes.
Today I almost learned what it means to die
too bad I walked too quickly, I like to study
I would’ve rather rode a bike or eaten an avocado
or watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer all weekend
“What was said? Bass?? Gas?
One would hope it was Bass.”
Bommin and beating like my heart
trying to escape my chest
I now need lots of wine
Wait, where did that monkey come from?
If everyone on ancestry.com is a monkey’s uncle,
and Darwin is dead, what of evolution has survived?
Nothing, save the Prime Minister from the beginning of our tale, sits on the curb, resembling
Dean Karpowicz, crying with his bacon
I can’t help but grab his bacon
to slap him in the face.