Your name?  Forget it —
scrub it off. Call yourself instead
Father Time, Mother Element,
Baby Bear Jesus Rattlesnake-face,
and ask for more paper
whenever you are asked
to sign on the dotted line.  

Load your wallet 
with banana peels, use them
to try and pay for more bananas,
call it an investment strategy. When
someone suggests that banana peels
are not legal tender, toss a few to the floor
while screaming, “I bet if you slip on those
your ASS will be tender!” as you run
to the door.

Do you know how to change
your face? Teach a class in 
rebel cosmetics or plastic
insurgency — there are many
who will be eager to learn, many
who will be desperate to learn.

Prepare a feast for all,
invite all the long-forgotten dead 
to sit with the living, 
insist that the corpses must offer us grace
before anyone alive begins to gorge themselves.
Enforce this with a willow switch
to the lips of the greedy
and impatient.

At sporting events,
tell everyone around you
that the national anthem’s being replaced
by “The Nearness of You” and
sing it out, loud and clear,
plenty of flourishes, plenty of 
vibrato; drop to your knees
at the end and kiss the bleachers 
for holding you so tenderly so many times…

You look at me as if I’m joking…
I’m not, unless you think
revolution should be a joke,
in which case I’m joking —

or maybe you are appalled?
Why? Do you think,
seriously or otherwise,
that we’re currently
making sense? 

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

Comments are disabled.

%d bloggers like this: