just once we'll get it right
A moon shot,,
outta sight.
when we charge up
in the bright lights
bring this slow dance song
to the shoreline of the river of
my origin...
I know the chill of sad dreams
swimming in nutritive black tar.
I think they have a name for my conditon
You suspect why I send my doctor Chevas at Christmas
If you knew more you'd know too much
to keep meeting with you.
Technology is a harsh mistress
Present but intangible.
You can't touch it, but it surrounds us
right there at our door step waiting for a ciick
sparking a connection from
a million miles away.
I remember really holding you.
Touching real flesh and feeling human warmth and the authentic feeling of being valued with affirming touch..
I fear, I have turned into a thrill a minute, slobbering, voyeur with a hooked finger,
I now ache for any contact. mostly virtual, bumping heads with the vulnernable and unusually shocking.
I ugently press the enter key, to reveal my next sordid fix..
My clarity is my gift to you.
I get partial closure but hunger for full disclosure,.
.I am a different man than my fathers
I built my ministry, on bytes.
Forsaking the ancient.
Denaturing the sacred.
I prostitute myself for vicarious pleasure.
that next thrilling, scorching delight
I can't right the rhythm
the rhythm of the night,.
I watch men/children chained
imates tortured till they die
screaming, they flee terror stricken.
My heart races with adrenalin ,
Feed me more trauma til the day that I die..
Put a lock and and a shocker on your refrigertor,
Lose the remote on your color T.V.
or your claim to fame will surely be
wasting your days and ruining everything you touch
including all our favorite hang outs
and haunts
Sing me your song.
But turn down the mic
cuz I have one more complaint,
as a singer
you stink.
.
.
Buddy Bee Anthony
All publishing, copying, and editing rights reserved as is by this author
09/15/2022
Re edited 11/13/2022 @12:48 pm pacific standard time