Fast Food And Fortune Cookies

I woke sore from dreaming
Sheets choked around my neck
And soaked through with sweat
Palms making marks in their imprints
While I write sad songs about my indifference
I raced into the streets to see the Shuttle launch
To find them flooded with others of the same thought
See the boosters burn in an awed paralysis
Space the final frontier, cowboys and Indians
How I wish that I could have lived like this
Outlaw friendship, and riding off into the sunset
Six-shooter in hand in the frontier of the Old West
Or like these self-contained men, ready for any climate
Living off of mankind�s golden accomplishments
In their silver ringed heaven-sent settlements
While I sleep in my Grandparent�s discarded bed
And dream of being better than this
You could watch me streak across the sky
Trailed only by my own white smoking lies
People in the streets raise their hands up on high
Reminds of me praying for God in church
Or soul searching for my own self worth
Nothing to gain, nothing to lose, simply standing by
While the world moves
In awkward turns and dizzying circles
The people sit in claustrophobic break rooms
And cornered cubicles with computer desks
Drive through rush hour traffic to the wife and kids
Who they claim to miss, but admit in deepest secret
Or in barroom confessions they�re having an affair with
The pretty girl at the bar, or the secretary behind the desk
And that the sex is good, and still just as meaningless
And as dull as it had become through-out marriage
Ever-cognizant of the clock, handing out its awkward ticks
Stamping time-card and time-card with its futile kiss
Most men they lead lives of quiet desperation, desperate
And lonely and scared, and too terrified to quit, or get a grip
Too afraid to miss, to bother with taking the shot again
Too scared of not being alone like they always have been
To admit that they need someone with them
And they�re too scared to think of who they are
The answer might not be what they want so they fake an act
And they�re scared that we�ll know all the sins they commit
What they wish, who they�ve missed, who they did, and home
Nothing to gain, nothing to lose, simply standing by
While the world moves

Reviews

[Raef C. Boylan]

I like work in this style [in moderation] - you really capture the weariness of modern life with this piece, the flooding of the mind as it is overwhelmed by all that is wrong.
I liked:
"While I write sad songs about my indifference I raced into the streets to see the Shuttle launch"
and
"While I sleep in my Grandparent's discarded bed And dream of being better than this You could watch me streak across the sky Trailed only by my own white smoking lies" - skilfully poetic prose.

Yeah, overall I enjoyed this journey like I enjoy finding patterns in bland bathroom tiles; depends on the mood you're in whether you find something. This piece intrigues the reader and draws them in with the abstract imagery in the beginning, and then they are struck by familiarity when you get to the depcitions of human nature. I guess it's all human nature really, just less obvious in the first 'half'.

Thanks for posting this.

[Father Mojo]

not bad, mr. T.F. McCormick