On Watching NatGeo in My Well Furnished Living Room

If I had the time I'd tell you of the lion
I met with last week during fridays cruel comedown.
As it so happens, that too was the first day
in which I bought sunglasses. It's a much darker
world than I remember, isn't it?
He told me of the struggle and its gripping
like linen cloth dripped down on summer string
blowing back and forth in that waning breeze
the little children running playing sticking.
Perhaps it'll be worth it in the end he suggests.
I have heard also from a friend - a lesser lion -
that it's easier to just let go. And I'm reminded
perhaps it is, since this ledge is cold and stone
after all. Is love just a mirage of appropriation?
Hell, is life of the same vein too?
There's a smudge that centers my view
of an enigmatic glass-pane which keeps me
boxed-in and healthy, unlike those of little luck.
What an odd colour this Earth is
through my silverspoon shortsight.
Some of those I know have plastic spoons for eyes
some worse still; no spoons, and thus no soup.
Am I the guilty?
Don't worry too much about your company
and their leaky financing. But do remember
to align those aztek shapes like snakes and
worms and donate it all. for the cause.
I spent all my time encroaching on the past
a pigpen, my multimilliondollar carparks
and life's abortive gadgets, all propellers whizzing.
There's this advert on skinny people who stand,
with all-moving black dots on their faces,
tilling at the dry soil sweating, sublimated
yet starved. And that's their motivation I suppose.
It makes me think of vacationing. somewhere
by the sea with the little grey logs that follow
and sometimes swim alongside. If you're lucky.
It's been a boring day for television.
Earlier, I watched some s**t on birds
And how they've grown increasingly lost
by means of whitepapers and paperclips.
Akin to those hypnotic schoolboardrooms
usually the basketball court, usually oak and patchwork
with the yellowblack pencils, all facing forward.
There was a little on the lions too, pathetic-looking
without their annual jackets. How might they keep warm?
I cry. And for heavens sake they look ridiculous!
A flash of static and a hand cramping in laziness
and further laziness. It's bad acting all this lowbrow humor
in highwasted shorts. But so much like chocolate
and already i'm forgetting.