Screen culture aside
glitter on her belly- the lioness roars
with no crown upon her head
but many a thorn in her side-the liquid jungle is steaming ,
she's got fire balls for eyes- katanna blade teeth
hiding among a sun-streaked silver smile
but watch out as soon as you pour her that drink
she'll burn your soul, consume all sense
and tear the sanity of seeking shelter for the evening
maybe you didn't pour the drink. maybe you paid someone
but still her fire got lit
something wet between both your thighs
both of you knew it was a bad idea
and maybe you should have just stared into your phone
numbing your mind- without the aftershock
of what was about to shatter -what you believed was your life
a colossal lie flashing in the pan of discontent and somehow the prospect of every member of the species, men, women, children, cross-genders and geriatrics,
tenderly walking hand in hand toward mass extinction
genuine smiles plastered on their faces- staring into the sun
and looming white heat from the sapien constructed nova doesn't seem that bad after all, radiation sickness and incredible hulks with gamma induced tumors instead of muscles
but don't make them angry, you might like them when they're angry
and actually listen to their story
it's a tale of idiots full sound and a lack of fury
staring deep into fragile expectations
now grab me a pair of purple pants and the worst rot-gut liquor you can find
I want to return to the kingdom of my birth which in reality
is just another slow burn descent.
Mike Zone is the author of Void Beneath the Skin, Fellow Passengers: Pubic Transit Poetry, Meditations & Musings and Better than the Movies: 4 Screenplays. He is the co-writer of the graphic novel series American Anti-hero from Alien Buddha Press. His poetry and stories have been featured in: Beatnik Cowboy, Horror Sleaze Trash, In Between Hangovers, Mad Swirl, Rasputin Poetry, Synchronized Chaos, Triadae Magazine and Your One Phone Call. He scrapes by in Grand Rapids, MI
glitter on her belly- the lioness roars
with no crown upon her head
but many a thorn in her side-the liquid jungle is steaming ,
she's got fire balls for eyes- katanna blade teeth
hiding among a sun-streaked silver smile
but watch out as soon as you pour her that drink
she'll burn your soul, consume all sense
and tear the sanity of seeking shelter for the evening
maybe you didn't pour the drink. maybe you paid someone
but still her fire got lit
something wet between both your thighs
both of you knew it was a bad idea
and maybe you should have just stared into your phone
numbing your mind- without the aftershock
of what was about to shatter -what you believed was your life
a colossal lie flashing in the pan of discontent and somehow the prospect of every member of the species, men, women, children, cross-genders and geriatrics,
tenderly walking hand in hand toward mass extinction
genuine smiles plastered on their faces- staring into the sun
and looming white heat from the sapien constructed nova doesn't seem that bad after all, radiation sickness and incredible hulks with gamma induced tumors instead of muscles
but don't make them angry, you might like them when they're angry
and actually listen to their story
it's a tale of idiots full sound and a lack of fury
staring deep into fragile expectations
now grab me a pair of purple pants and the worst rot-gut liquor you can find
I want to return to the kingdom of my birth which in reality
is just another slow burn descent.
Mike Zone is the author of Void Beneath the Skin, Fellow Passengers: Pubic Transit Poetry, Meditations & Musings and Better than the Movies: 4 Screenplays. He is the co-writer of the graphic novel series American Anti-hero from Alien Buddha Press. His poetry and stories have been featured in: Beatnik Cowboy, Horror Sleaze Trash, In Between Hangovers, Mad Swirl, Rasputin Poetry, Synchronized Chaos, Triadae Magazine and Your One Phone Call. He scrapes by in Grand Rapids, MI
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