A Short, Heated Conversation

-
So let me get this straight:
You want me to talk about
how society has always been sick,
but is now more like a cancer patient
                          than a child with a cold?
      How society beats itself up,
preys on good and innocent things,
essentially lobotomizing itself
               to oblivion?
You want me to talk about society?
               You're joking, right?
What have you been watching?
                       "Bee-do"
           Oh.
               That explains everything.
You despicable little...
           never mind.
Agh, what have I got
myself into this time..?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The word was "bee-do". Yeah, I couldn't do anything aside from use it as a non-sequitur. Ah well...

Cheers!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Sweet Medicine

-
So I've heard that the difference between poison and medicine is in the dose.      I've also heard that food should be our medicine, the front lines against disease.    I've also  heard                          (bear with me) that the quickest way to a man's heart           is through his belly. Let's put aside the obvious      problems glaring at us            with glowing,              unsettling eyes - of the literal relationship of constant ingestion of meaty, fatty proteins and heart disease - and let's just sit back, relax: take this     on a more abstract level. Her words & actions        were saccharine: thick dollops of gelato filling a generously large bowl. It took more than a few years to finish, but I got throu...
Read more

Because...

-
Image
Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labour, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school where children played At wrestling in a ring; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarecely visible, The cornice but a mound. Since then 'tis centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity. Emily Dickinson "Because I could Not Stop for Death..." I stated in an earlier post that I'd venture into poetry - I never said I'd take another's. But this isn't a poetry post - this is one of those kind-of-essays. I have just recently been given the news of the passing of my grandmother on my mother's side. It's hard enough to deal with a relative's dea...
Read more

But Whatever Do You Mean?

-
Her mind was reeling, in a state of retropulsion, as though stepping - no, leaping  back would save her from dwelling on the implications of what just happened. The enemy - so-called -             called for truce,      even friendship. She has known him these past three years and not once has he made any indication of backing down. His sense of pride, like a wall, didn't allow the very idea to enter through the gates. And yet now, when she chances upon him in the streets, all she sees on his face is bewilderment,              even confusion. When he chances upon her,                        his eyes fill with anger - but does she see a hint of embarrassment, dancing in the corners? Her curiosity is getting the better of her -                     she demands him, upon...
Read more