Lil B's Poem or A Way of Showing My Gratitude

If not every flower 

eavesdropped upon on my bloom,

then as playground mythopoesis.

A game of tag-you're it,

no takesies backsies,

just good ol’ biophage.

Market conditions ripe

for global contusion,

cellulite dimples made

statistical ideal.

Sophia Loren's wrinkled user base,

and alas, my revolutionary praxis

will probably have to wait.

Until then, pluck

at the gum smudged

underneath your desk.

What’s the old saying;

out of sight, out of 

national deficit?

Another no call, no show,

despite my studied library,

my body past due-

beholden to delicate rinse cycles

of ancient launderers,

to dialectical materialist,

their ever slobbered knobs.

An infants fist

balled into

myopic triumph.

Or better-

the Taco Bell electorate's

drive-thru schemata,

Coltrane’s A Crunch Wrap Supreme,

all these crumbs

scattered resolute.

At best, reactionaries lined

around the corner

to lick Cheeto dust

from my fingers.

Reviews

[Tai Chi Italy]

Wow! Now that's what this little B calls gratitude! Great write, somehow the voice sounds familiar. Very, finger on the pulse of our modern world. The imagery covers all the sensations. That is a lot of views! Why no reviews?