Pessimistic Dick

Under this big bright corolla that burns my skin brown,

the waves of people’s utterance boggles my mind

like a child watching a bloody film.

-

The lucid sky filled with streaks of vapor

that contaminates my vision of contemplation

with carbon crap-oxide and the rest of those fuels.

-

The trash, charred mountains with melting dirty brown snow caps

fills the rivers with clumps of oils

and other pews.

-

The ocean green

but yet making a stand against the discrete pipes

that spills the shit of this numbing faction.

-

I piss fluorescent, I spit tobacco,

and I drink the fluids that poisons my liver

to put up with the wheel that makes the locomotive spin.

-

I smoke the grass, I chew the meat,

and I make love to the other gender

to make the wheel produce more and more and never win.

-

At night pondering under the milky streak of the way,

the words of Beatnik’s awakens my cynical fury

to chastise the machine that produced me.

-

Poets and artists die to be emblems of the canon

who portray pain and agony,

but it’s not enough to move that damn fleet.

-

Ginsberg, Milton, Shelley,

and even that psycho Plato

tried to compromise with us.

-

I still love

so the sweet words of Ginsberg and Blake

that make me realize beyond this plain.

-

I dream, I cry,

I ponder on this ecliptic radial wave

that I live in seven days, months, years, and even millenniums of tears.

-

I scream inside myself,

I prowl with my friends,

In the end, I want to steal the axle that spins the wheel.

-

By Bazooka Teaches