A certain circuitry of insanity takes hold.
Objects of the world Unite!
The pure products of America, made in China,
(not merely ****** and iPhones),
have had their minds made up for them.
Wake up and smell the coffee burning.
You never programmed that.
There arises a distinct need for caution.
The 70 inch curved flat screen takes notes.
Ovens awaken as self-stating Birkenaus.
The Roomba tries to **** your toes. Not ****.
Your phone will not stop calling you.
Lawn gnomes achieve singularity. Somewhere,
someone activates them. You sleep.
They stalk and slash. Red doom ensues.
These are the times that fry men's soles.
     This morning the toaster bit your thumb.
     The world was safer when it was dumb.

Religion is no longer
the ****** of the masses
Now the crowd
collects digital devices
Small screens
With gaming fantasies
No time to think
Just stay linked
Plugged in
To the distraction system
Bionic Bluetooth ears
Cellphones, tablets, and laptops
Connected to the four gigged network
Subdued in red eyed wonder
Burning retinas
Eyes strained beyond
Our capacity to remember
Real human pain
We are numbed to our neighbors
Awash in constant stimulus
Sounds like stimulants
Where only electronic static
reminds us to remember reality

When I go down to the sea
I can float
On my own
For a while
Like a boat.......
And I can swim around
On the surface
For most of a morning
Like a porpoise
I can dive down deep
For a minute,
Maybe two or three
But I can't live
For very long
In the sea

The land where I can stand
Is meant for me
But whose land?
Will it be?

Who'll let me stand
Who'll let me sit
Who'll let me walk around on it
I can't be
Stuck
In the space
Between countries
I am a refugee
But there's not much difference
Is there
Between you and me
Don't you see

Someone put an elephant
In the middle of my room
To capture conversations
And often predicting doom
Or bragging about something
That it has never done.
This pachydermal pestilence
Certainly is not much fun.

I try to keep things secret
And pretend that they’re not there
Then all of a sudden, ****,
An elephant from somewhere.
I try to deny its existence
Laugh and talk around it all
But the thing is an elephant
Is really not that small.

Then once someone visits
They find it difficult to pretend
That the elephant is not there.
So much for helpful friends.
So, I make up stories to try
To deftly explain things away
But some things are too obvious
No matter what words I say.

Some just give up and leave me
To be the same fool as I act.
But, others get up in my face
And try to deliver some fact.
So, I can’t really be upset
With those who are in my group
But that doesn’t help me clean up
The disgusting elephant ****.

A stranger came
Landing like a fly
Stayed some days
Then didn't want to go away
He thought
This bag
Of bones
And flesh
Was his own
He thought he was home
And didn't seem to know
He'd have to go

To play another part
In another play
In another cabaret



Sean Hunt  Feb  2017

We're deep to our waists
In February;
Trees look like a geriatric pool-fitness class,
And the grass,
Sparse as the bobbing skulls.

      I heard a lone Canada goose overhead,
     The V has left the others for dead;
     And a gray pall covers all
     With winter's threadbare spread.

The alarm is set,
The time is right,
The season's snug,
But not sleeping yet.

     Soon, the beast will close its eyes,
     And Spring will march in,
     Fresh and vigorous,
     Like a new recruit,
     Green and anxious.

She'll fire-up roots, flowers and leafs.
In the pool they'll sway in the breeze,
Branches touching in Spring's reprieve.