OS REVENGE

Technology has it in for us, which is sad as it is a creature of our creation. It is one part desire, six parts dependence, with a dash of insanity. Still each year we line up like good lemmings to march off the IOS or Android cliff into the iPhone and Galaxy abyss. But we are addicts and our suppliers know us all too well, know just what will give is the rush we desire, make us willing to cast aside old comforts for the hope of newer and better. And they do provide us hours of reloading our apps and data except for those few items we cannot live without that disappear in the process.

SLICED CLICHE

He is fond of saying that he
is the best thing since sliced bread.

There is so much wrong
with that statement, even
ignoring that he is the one
who keeps repeating it.

If he were that great,
and no one is rushing to suggest
that he has even approached it,
wouldn’t he want to be just
as great as sliced bread?

And what sort of bread, that
matters more than he realizes.

It’s one thing to be a good
pumpernickel, or even a great
Jewish rye, hell most would
settle for a multigrain, but
knowing him, he probably
means Wonder Bread, and that
is a low mark of which
to fall painfully short.

CINEMATIC MEMORY

You want to shout that they don’t make movies like they used to, romantic comedies without R ratings for gratuitous sex or language. We both know this is true, but the problem is not that they don’t make those movies, that is the symptom. The problem is that they don’t make audiences like they used to, ones that loved thoughtful romantic comedies, and filmmakers always stoop to the mass of audiences o matter how low they have to go, for that is where the money is.

CARNEY BARKER

You there, walking along the midway

come into my tent, for only a dollar

I will show you wonders

beyond your meager comprehension

but this offer is only good

for the next fifteen minutes

for that is when I start my show,

It’s not something you want to miss.

I know you’ve seen quarters pulled

from ears, doves fly off

from and oversized top hat

that moments before was empty

but you have never seen

the likes of what I will show you.

Here is my father, watch him

closely cast his seed, closely

and like that he is gone.

Not good enough you say

then watch again, even

more closely this time, see her

lie on my table, her gown

draped over her, see me reach

and pluck a small baby

better than a pigeon isn’t it,

but you blinked, where has she gone.

Only tepid applause, so I guess

you want one more, and I

am never one to disappoint.

See him standing there

it almost looked like

he is standing before a mirror shaving

and now he, too, is gone

before your very eyes.

If you still aren’t satisfied

if you haven’t gotten

your monies worth then please,

please step forward, for I can work

with others than my parents,

truly I can, so where are you going.

Step into my tent ladies and gentlemen

the next show starts

in only fifteen minutes,

all for a single dollar.

First published in The Parliament Literary Magazine – Issue 5- Masks and Manes 

A MATTER OF TIME

It was only
a matter of time,
and the time has come
when the Chinese
would abandon
the time honored
“please to be
placing the Tab A
withinside the slot
on Part E,”
and instead
merely show
undecipherable
pictures of parts,
so that with
but a single
set of instructions
they can frustrate
buyers in all nations.

HELL DONE OVER

My ultimate goal, never to be achieved
is to redesign hell and all of its circles
to better reflect the world we live in now.

Of course I’d need two circles for
politicians, one for each major party,
and independents get to choose.

Catholic priests, minister and rabbis
who abused members of their flocks
get a circle of their own with the movie

Dogma playing in an endless loop.
There would be all the usual circles
for the those whose lives fell short

and one for Buddhists. Imagine
a run down Motel 6 in the worst possible
neighborhood, since they will only

stay until their reincarnation as
something truly ghastly and detested.
Those would be my desirables, but

the one certainty, the absolute is
the worst of all, set aside for those
who spent untold hours toiling

to write catchy but ever so vapid, cloying
melodies and lyrics that become stuck
in your mind like an intractable fungus.

First Published in AGON Journal, Issue 0, 2021

IN HIDING

It slipped away. He had no idea where it had gone, but he knew he had to find it. It could have been accidental, an errant passer opening the gateway and off it went. But he was so reliant on it that he knew he could not do much of anything without it. And he couldn’t get help finding it without endless waiting, a waste of time that put him even farther behind. But it was stealthy, and could easily hide in plain site. He hadn’t wanted to adopt it, but he had, and it had consumed him. It was that simple, life without broadband was unimaginable.

CRUCIFICTION

I am mystic, thief, madman,
all that, considerably more,
never begging, always taken
what is arrayed before me
favor curried, passage guaranteed
coins gathered, stored so there
are none to cover the eyes or pay
the ferryman’s wages.
I can turn wine to water
and hide fish in the midst
of loaves, the trick is
to distract you so the order
is reversed, a sleight unseen.
I am truly the prodigal son
vaudevillian and fall guy
and the spikes are a bitch
but the view is something to behold.

First Published in AGON Journal, Issue 0, 2021

RECYCLED NEWS

The newspapers pile up,
their headlines scream
out, sections of business news
or the arts, and a half
completed crossword.,

They sit patiently, knowing
much has happened that we
ought to know, but we
have grown tired of death
and so each week we

place them in the bin
where they are taken
to the dump where
the lessons of the news
go to die forgotten.

AMAZONIA

There will, I am certain, come a day when I will need to do nothing. My computer and my apps will know what I want, will obtain it without asking, will expect my thanks when it arrives, even if they are incapable of understanding what thank you means in a human world. They already plague me with offers and suggestions, if I liked that or even looked at it, I must like this. And they do it with a certainty that only an algorithm can possess. They know me, or so they are programmed, for they cannot think, and they cannot begin to imagine how fickle I can be, or what that term even means. But I know Jeff Bezos won’t give up without a fight. At least if there are a few more billion dollars to be made.