channel 13, the curtains, and me by Columpa Bobb

This is a good friend, actress, teacher, activist’s latest which we hear at the blog found a full cup of anguish, anger, love and searing searching. Columpa Bobb take it away…

 

channel 13, the curtains, and me

The wind throws up inebriated air like a poetically pathetic barfly on a tear
licking though the pain at the dirty drapes hanging bare,
the tempests howl and the black box pyre’s remotely flared
with an unwanted undaunted haunted beam
and the T.V. blue rages on, selling bleaching creme,
an innocent dreamand youth in a tube
while a lude-n-crude-tattooed-n-rude dude
is Tony Hawking shoes on a sk8bored man
and o-m-G IC u rrsp-n about mebehind that Rockwell
Warhol Hollywood tin man brand name whore red soup can
gonna sell me the spotlight as a bling bling ding-a-ling hollow yes man
It’s almost enough to drown out my Kah-ranial-does-it-grey-matter
It’s almost enough to radiate my heart in HDTVR I P-p-pretty people pixel smatter
and the plastique a/v deep-lied KFC money grabbing montage batters me,
until the only things left alive are the loose legged curtains
and a High def’ning ssssssscheme
And me, I wish I could forget how to breathe as my heels click
and I flick-flick-flick through the tiny green screen,
trying like hell not to kill my own damn scream
dream
scream
dream
scream
dream
scream
dream
scream
dream
scream

Columpa C. Bobb