Dis-Affected (1 of 365)

In an effort to post more regularly, I have decided to set myself a challenge.

Three basic rules:

1. 1 poem a day (for the next year);

2. At least one word I am unfamiliar with to incorporate into each poem; and 

3. Every 7 days incorporate some type of structured poem (as opposed to free verse).

Disaffected

Morning comes along as it always does

My yawn drowns the fire bombings

The coffee stains on my counter

Ever present and the blood stains 

Being hurled at me senseless

Through that portal 

Through that mind-fuckery known only as television

I disinfect and bleach my clothes

My large XXL polo 

Ignoring the phone calls of all those nail biting charity dweebs

All of their sass and shallow promises

My front lawn groans under the agony of the mower 

It howls and shrieks just like a suicide bomber

Each yowling tendril of the thin green stalk snuffed out arbitrarily 

The way they do when the kids with guns go to town

Blow a few heads off like popping candy on their way to school

Cry for help 

Cry for attention

These are the beseeching prayers of the social media tyrants

The endless chain-links wheeling their way back through that vapid portal on our screens

Where the whitewashed camera and the powdered sets ring somehow true

Where the typical lads and lasses

With their faces put on for a hard days work

Revel in the simple wholesome 

Chores

I rake the dirt out of my floor

The sucking of the vacuum is violent

Meanwhile some pigheaded African despot rails on behind this or that podium in this or that country

Then there are the women and men with mouths and tongues flapping up and down trying to catch the real truth

The real story in it 

To tie it up in a bow

The ultimate tongue twister

I fix myself a glass of water

Watch the grit and mud that the fools in the alien planet through the television portal endure

Why? Is this real?

The video game firing squads shoot fake sounding pellets that smack their target that topples

Someone or something ancient 

The uncanny valley smiles upon me

This was so close to real

This was such good CGI

The frame rate of this real time strategic bombing

And the ultimate eye sore 

Those bleary tears and howls of the women and the children and the men

These strange skeletons beyond the portal

The hum of my microwave oven splatters red pasta sauce against the door

The spatter reminds me of a crime scene in my favourite drama show

I eat my vaporised radioactive pasta

I slurp each strand feeling the wobbly coils blast their way down my throat

Like torpedoes

Roiling down 

Imploding in the nuclear reactor of my intestines.