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OMEGA | Mike Bushnell
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Mike Bushnell

15 Jun Mike Bushnell

POEM READ ON THE TONIGHT SHOW WITH JIMMY FALLON (4/28/14)

 

 

the clouds move twenty thousand feet above the mountain

and I am in my little apartment

thinking about cleaning

sitting on the couch

turning on the television

so I can have some visions

I need some visions

lemme get some visions

oh I must have done something wrong

I talk to an old friend and think about all the people I will never talk to again

this life makes us so aware of leaving them behind

we can chat and we can reconnect

and that is new

and we can comment and post a little something

on the internet and people read it or engage

and that is new

and new replaces meaningful

because things get faster

things used to be new for a decade

now new is ten minutes

new until the brands start posting

to increase the bottom line

the internet is built by people who make no money from posting

but the internet is kept thriving by those ad dollars

of the business to consumer juggernaut falling down the stairs

of the billboards collapsing on rush hour traffic

of the princes of spam and radical trolls

of course it seems we are cool with it

what the fuck is this world

I feel pathetic and powerful like an internet

Sometimes I sit on the porch and look into the distance

I feel very aware that I am being brainwashed

and I am giving in I am failing the child I once was

by giving in and being brainwashed by the avalanche of media

tumbling like snow so white and old and dumb on top of the fucking peak

somebody get me a steel structure to stand under and blinders and change my

passwords

somebody get me a financial advisor and spread the cream cheese on the bagel so I

have the energy to do what I must to get through the day

somebody call my boss to tell him I will be in twelve minutes late and throw away my

socks and save me from a shark in the ocean

and punch the shark and continue

no bother

fuck the commercials

no bother

can we keep on going

I sit in the car eating lunch listening to the radio

the flowers dry up

even if they are in the water

because they are too close to the heater

media is a joke we have all heard before

digital communities are monetised and monitored

all you got is what is around you right now

right this second

everything else is a gesture

or a hand on a body passing in the crowd in the subway station seven years ago

or a hand holding open the door which is polite but it didn’t save me when the earth

gives way and I fell from the doorway into the dark core

or a hand holding onto the hair

someday

the sun will explode

and all of this will be burnt up

that is the only saving grave

we are on a timer

we only have so much time

before the details kill us all

there is a fence around the house

a fence made from local trees

chopped with axes made of stainless steel

or the hands holding the axe

swinging the axe

these hands of the axer

fast food truck bro

I don’t know

is it worth it

probably not

but look for it

I sit in a chair

companies make commercials quoting hashtags

I throw up every morning

this world is ridiculous

fuck hashtags and

fuck you jimmy fallon

 

 


 

Mike Bushnell has two poetry books in the world, OHSO (Scrambler) and Traumahawk (6G). He lives with his cat, Crowbar in Seattle, Washington where he works as a Product Manager with a toy company.

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