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SHAMEFUL SELF-PROPAMOTION: - Chicago Poets Unite! [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Chicago Poets Unite!

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SHAMEFUL SELF-PROPAMOTION: [Apr. 23rd, 2006|03:57 pm]
Chicago Poets Unite!


here is the piece i will be reading tonight at the green mill:

Money, Money, Money


it's what you're dying for.

just as supply demands attention, deficit mans depression and
men milk pigs then roll in their ceo's filth muttering

"i hate my job... i have a wife... i hate my kid... he is getting old, growing like weed...
the newspaper is getting old... i

a career supports a family and family is life's support system - but
who calculated these
ma -
tri -

a part time job will pay the bills partly, indeed, but
blue collared drunks are america's sleeping giant - limp, wet cock
wet- noodled to the inside of Ireland's

tile ground asleep...
super-sam walton will see you now -- will rape you now.

a tea-leaf greed needs a generous shade of green
but what colorless, sleepwalking pupils our corporate douchebags drag across this facade!

it's torture, it's unkind, now - keep in mind:

i aint no socialist
i aint no poet
i aint no faith in a god
or democrazy
or humanity, but i am human and yes,
i do need to be loved...

so make love like it made you, because it did girl!

break bread, wordly
but get the loaf from a local locale, a
down the street, around the corner bakery, i mean

mexicans, germans, french, chinese, italians... shit!
even america has decent bakeries -- we are the breadbowl of the world, stale


it's what you're

and how assanine are restrictions prohibiting business owners from living anywhere but on the premises and
another restriction, strictly forbidding one man or woman to own more than one corporation?

i know, i don't like restrictions either,
but it aint like we arent living with the usgvt breathing down our necks and into our asscracks.

in fact, if the law is against us, let us argue the facts.
if the facts are against us, let us argue the law.
if the law and facts are both against us, let us prepare to pound on science's plateua.

yea... one man with one business, one column - one row.

and if you don't like that man's prices, you continue peddling -
down the cobblestone pedestrain-way to that

one woman with one business

to each their own, but who could honestly grow into anything while being weighed down with a billion
burden for half a lifetime.

oil tycoons are sipping lemonade and recieving reacharounds from the scholars of money...
while their eleven enterprises compromise quality for quantity -- what do you want from me that
you don't already have?

what do you have back there that aint on the menu? and also -- i
ordered three mcgriddles, there appears to be but two in the bag i just recieved...

oh, sorry sir...

are you?

well, no - not really.

well, either is the ugly bastard who owns this joint, so
ima go piss in the ballpit, shit on grimace, and vomit down the tunnel slide because i am hating it!

mcdonalds breakfast sandwiches,
mcdonalds breakfast sandwiches,
mcdonalds breakfast sandwiches,

it's what you're suffering for.

i will most likely change some parts and ad lib some, as i am unsure of the length or format expected from tonight's slammers.

jam on, whiskeyman... jam on.