Status quo

2 Comments

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  • Life

    Status quo

    Sitting here just me

    Causeless western and free

    In my imported misery

    Felling o so guilty

    For my self-pity

    We’re running out of oil and it worries me

    Failed philosophy

    In some years I can’t see

    Shit on TV

    Find porn quickly

    It’ll be only me

    Lost world of virtuality

    I know they’re dying elsewhere

    Pretty much everywhere

    But right here

    Just an empty baby chair

    That no one living comes near

    In his infant face the barrel of a gun

    What has he done?

    A setting blood sun

    Africa on the run

    And that’s how the oil prices fell to two fifty-one

    Killed asleep in the darkness

    Flipping through the Sears catalogue for a prom dress

    A stranger’s life means less

    It sickens me to confess

    My heart grows cold behind my fat chest

    I see how the planet has changed

    People become still more deranged

    And I feel so estranged

    Fragile wrist veins

    My friend volunteers for the international army

    Becomes my ideological enemy

    Caught and executed on his pale knees

    UN casualties

    Broadcast on al-jazeera TV

    The images won’t leave me

    I would give anything not to see

    More fuel for my misery

    I rise and I go

    Leaving without ever saying so

    Feeling so low

    Does anyone know?

    Who runs this show?

    Poem Comments

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    rsalassi commented on Status quo

    09-06-2010

    Holden Caulfield lives! Bravo! This anthem surely will resonate with many.

    Donyon commented on Status quo

    09-06-2010

    Commas are your friend. Do not be afraid of them.

    stigbohnolsen

    09/06/2010

    I'll face my fears when i feel like it. ;)

    rsalassi

    09/06/2010

    I commend your bravery, my friend, but I must warn about giving advice to teenagers, espcially having to do punctuation, grammar, spelling, and all other basic things language arts. The last time I did, the little witch accused me of having a stick stuck sideways up my ass.And to please remove it before I read another of her poems. I have graciously complied.

    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

    Unknown Source

    stigbohnolsen’s Poems (49)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Abyss Bar 1
    Good End Times 0
    My First Love Letter, and what an abomination it is! 2
    Matter Splatter (A Materialist Poem) 0
    Disillusion 0
    DaDaDream 2
    Bursting 2
    Monday 5
    Summoning Spring 3
    Tadpoles 3
    Another Hour 8
    At The sea (past tense) 6
    Nausea 6
    Set in snow 4
    A Dream Shaped Like Home 4
    Accordingly 4
    A lot (abridged) 8
    Park bench satori 8
    Currently Incarnated 3
    Apparently Apartment 7
    Storm 5
    Flickering Dust 6
    AUTUMN 5
    Nazi-colored skin 3
    Apathy 4
    Mellow Little Apocalypse 7
    One for the Minister 8
    Envying the tachyons as Monday catches me off guard yet again 5
    Yonder Wicked Picket 7
    Observations 5
    A Throwaway Future 4
    Downbound 4
    Appreciated 6
    Mellow Pain 6
    Windowsill 6
    The Conqueror 4
    Such Shit 2
    If a Tree Falls... 3
    Twenty-first Century Goofiness! 8
    Billionaire 4
    Paper 2
    Futility 3
    Blues 3
    Estranged 3
    Birth 2
    Status quo 2
    In Transit 2
    My Pet Peeves 3
    On A Day Stillborn 4