ICW: 02/05/09

It was an understanding poop,
That brought the stale cow home.
Sitting on my ranch
Eating my explosive sandwich
I could feel the loud sun
Melt my poor blind car
The price of slow food perhaps
What would welcome Bessie back?
I wondered
The oppressive fish stared on.

Do you?

I think about my closets and the suits that they hold.
I dream about new hangers for when my new ones get old.
I love skipping the line when I order my lunch.
I enjoy sneering at people when I see that they munch.
Some might then say that I am rather rude,
But people aren’t people if they do not properly eat food.
I am lucky because I do not have a career.
I do visit the bank though, exactly once per year.
I am worth more than eleven million pounds.
And I love the way that saying that sounds.
As of late my most new found pleasure
Is telling others about my life of leisure.
I rub it in their faces that I never go to work.
I smirk at onlookers and they call me a jerk.
What I believe now is that money gives life purpose
Before I was rich my world was a circus.
People were always attempting to crowd up my life.
There was no leaving my family, friends, wife.
As things stand now, these people are all gone.
I can only assume that by now they have moved on.
I remember playing games with my friends in the gym.
But not any more – I am too good for them.
Ever since I started receiving so much money
I have felt that there is no one above me.
This feeling is what makes everything okay.
It is what enables me to wake up every day.
It used to be tough to face the world out there.
But thanks to my money, I don’t have to be scared.
I cannot feel or move anything that is below my neck.
Everything in my life changed because of that wreck.
Feel bad for me.

Controller

My rifle rests, its work was hard.
I didn’t have to think.
Bullets spilled your enemy’s blood.
You didn’t even blink.
I am trapped inside this armor,
Kept here against my will.
So it isn’t me who murders.
I must believe it still.
With each day a new fight comes and
I hope that I might die.
In death I find my only peace,
Free from commands I lie.
There isn’t much that I can do,
My heavy heart I hold.
I shouldn’t be ashamed of death.
The dead can’t be controlled.
I know too how the others feel,
Forced into endless war.
They are empty just as I am.
That’s what we’re all made for.
I beg you please to think of us,
Next time you play our game.
Remember we are people too,
Don’t send us home in shame.
Till then I’ll just be waiting here,
Stuck inside Halo 3.
My actions should be mine to own.
I know you won’t agree.
To you I’m not a person, but
An object on TV.

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