Accept No Substitutes
I’ve had it…
I’ve been pushed so far beyond my limit
I could just AHHHHHHH
I’m sick to death of
these weeny, whiny, pencil heads
taking up airspace
with their “just gotta have fun
and work ain’t no fun”
blond attitudes.
What happened to commitment?
respect?
creativity?
What the fuck is wrong
with a little PRACTICE?
And I really want to just
AHHHHHHHHHHH
when I think of all the
pathetic strays lined up
to pay $10 to watch this shit.
They wouldn’t know “art”
it if bit em on the ass
and these idiots
aren’t showin’ ‘em anything
they haven’t seen before,
but they stand there like
their watchin’ the second coming.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Wake up and
smell the old cum.
There’s more to it
than cleavage and crotch bulges
and if they can’t see that
someone otta just
AHHHHHHHH
right in their fuckin ear
cause sometimes
a fist through wallboard feels
GOOD,
and if the bone breaks,
pain reminds them
that they can, too, feel,
and if they can feel,
they can breath,
and if they can breath,
they can think.
And they NEED
to think.
Cause it’s the unthinkin’ zombies
that make me want to just
AHHHHHHHHHHH
until I wake the dead
and the ghost go traipsing across
their asses until they’re
ground down into the
mouse-meat they really are.
And just when you
finally think you’ve got
AHHHHHHHH
out of your system,
someone figures out
that AHHHHHH feels good, and
you know,
if it feels good
it can sold to the masses
to make a buck.
So now we have retreats
where everybody looks up at the sky
and just AHHHHHHHHs
and AHHHHHHHHHHs
and AHHHHHHHHHs
to their heart’s content,
paying $5000 a day
for the privledge.
Hell, you don’t even have to
be mad,
you can just
“get in touch with your
primitive side”
turning the whole act
into a cliché of itself
so that
AHHHHHHHHHH
doesn’t mean shit
anymore.
And, yes,
this is an example of
that very cliché.
That’s
the point.
Prime Even
Crack the egg on the
side of the bowl –
prime becomes even
so easily
but there’s no way
to turn it back to one.
Some days
a fist through wallboard
just seems right
ladylike or not.
Fuck being nice…
I want revenge
for broken egg shells
on the floor.
I want my egg
whole…prime, baby.
And, no,
I will not settle for
breaking each half
into five…prime even.
Why would I compromise
when YOU broke my egg
in the first place?
Pieces
aren’t the same
as a whole.
And I’m a demanding bitch.
Whole
or nothing…
Damnit
I’ve got to go to the store
for eggs
again
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I started studying writing and poetry at The Cincinnati School for Creative
and Performing Arts at the age of 12. Now, I am a happily married mother of two girls living in Northwest Ohio who works for a physician's network. My poetry has appeared in about 43 print/web zines, and I've performed at
several places around Toledo over the last several years. I am a member of the rock/spoken word band Logic Alley (www.logicalley.com), and Director of Minstrel Soup Artist’s Coalition.
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