#40
(always)
T Time,
after Julie Andrews on The Muppet Show
New Roman,
tell the story,
with no force
of one rhyme,
one more time.
U know the one,
the real great one.
The one where
morals are as profitable as
war is an act of kindness to one world of
metaphysical fish, steaks, oranges, & chocolates, all on
the list of the fair mother, away at work, & the trans-nanny-
teacher god tells the child a story about time. The story about the
time when the child had no time for the story about a past catching up.
The one where
people were out in the world
popping off on other people out in
the world where people are dropping
in & out of the world where the mom
of the pop icon had not chosen unpopularity.
The one where
mom chose for the kid to be a country
that fights for the choice to feel like a chosen one.
The lone story about one sperm & one egg under a microscope.
The one where
the king was shooting blanks
& the kids were all watching golf
while scary loud firecrackers popped
off as fireworks went whistling through
airs, exploding up alone into popcorn flowers.
That was a good one! To a T. That one was special.
The one where
an entire canon is shot through loose cannons to other countries.
Why did the cow in the room push the elephant aside?
There is quite a nice trajectory with vegetables.
Nothing is as practically perfect as a peach
playing the part in But Why?, the spring-
blockbuster-musical powerhouse
about the American Dream’s
blacklisted.
The one where
the spot is sold out
for America to play a role
in polemic flag pipe dreams
for classified ads of parts to play.
Mom got a Masters in playing a part fairly.
Mom, who never had any time to part work & play
Beethoven & Mozart, & the child had to play catch up
to the one where
other countries were growing up to stop asking questions
about mom’s day of labor, whistling like a kettle for the Wounded King,
who toots at her with a church shell as though she were an animal & the sound not made of gas.
The one where
the child could not ask but why mom did not have time for her country’s problem,
busy fighting an invisible devil that got the country’s goat, born from future e-i-o-lit gardens.
The one where
the work of a world is to make choices for all the kids, getting fat crunching on
Cracker Jacks & sipping soda pop, who always find resolve in a king's big, grand finale,
with great pyrotechnics used in a head-to-head show. Yet, all finish the same in do re: me time.
The one where the one-on-one-to-one step of one one-sided story chosen
to be most popular, logged, & conserved in that one great book
for one spinning modern metamorphic tapioca bead
with puppet seed eyes from the skies (lies),
then keeps on going & growing
echoed from the hilltops
alive after death
of one lone
populace.
**first published by Promethean, Spring 2017
