Gone

Poetry

Gone
you innocent beach days
on the great despoiled Earth,
with our sandwich wrappers and six-pack rings
gently tossing in the surf.

Magic
made uncovered trash go away
from the open-bed pick-up,
and cig-butt fireflies danced in the interstate breeze
without an awful conscience to disrupt.

Foot
sliced on a pop pull-tab
outside the convenience store,
What’s another one, for the collection?
Treat their driveway like your whore!

Slash
and burn and slash again
like the homesteaders of old
It’s your American privilege
to leave your nest
Cleveland steam-rolled.

Victor Jizzly, poet philosopher.

Perspective of coolth

Poetry

Maudlin modelin’
to cool for school:
haughty harumphers playing it cool.

From the city (seen it
done it,
been there) and in the physical condition to pose in underwear.

How I envy
you sophisticates!
Your sleepy, bored eyelids!
Your undiddled clits!

Incapable of being amused or enjoyed-
your spirits unbouyed
in a carnival of the unfair:
your place seems  a sea of despair from here,
but surely feels like Olympus, from there.

by Victor Jizzly, poet philosopher