by Michael Coy |
Categories:
satire,
Remember all those tea ads with the chimps on?
We’ll prostitute the Prague of Gustav Mahler
and desecrate the divas of La Scala.
Would Bart betray begettor Homer Simpson
(he’s not so much a whoreson as a pimp-son)
to get himself a Chevrolet Impala?
You bet he would. This is the Grab-It Gala.
The cripple pawns the plaster that he limps on.
In Pasadena, Pimlico and Perth,
the only thing we´ll go without is girth.
Where JP Morgan’s played by Colin Firth,
we airbrush self-awareness, muffle mirth,
and drown in plenty, blink at moral dearth.
We're always prizing price-tag, never worth.
by Vickey Rhymer |
Categories:
1st grade, cat,
61 Chevy Impala S S
Black sleek loaded with chrome
Parked at quick shop that morning
Not far from my home
The only extraneous decor than
that described above
A bumper sticker of Sylvester the
Cat sending everyone his love
It really popped with his
bright red nose saw it and had to laugh
Block lettered in the blackest type
reading thusly.... Kith My Ath
by Stephanie Whitley |
Categories:
loveme, me,
That fresh taste of mint,
That reminds me of you.
That gray on a passing Impala,
That reminds me of you.
That song "Love" by Musiq Soulchild,
That reminds me of you.
That little boy laughter,
That reminds me of you.
Those two spots in the Meijer parking lot,
Those remind me of you.
Those two apartments where I work,
Those remind me of you.
I Am Legend,
That reminds me of you.
Ruby Tuesday,
That reminds me of you.
Love
Is you.
Dedicated to a very good friend of mine. Love wasn't the result, but our friendship is worth it
all.
by Jaquay Atkins |
Categories:
absence, abuse, age, dark, image,
Poached over within my chair crying tears of vulnerability
Mind racing while my thoughts refuse to form
So beautiful she was,
Solid individual disappeard like mist in the mist of hardship
Faith in her character was rewritten
Good music plays throughout the room of a empty house
Feeling as low as an impala below sea level
Drowning for days in a pool of anguish
Was blind to the truth but was rocked abruptly
Eyes wide open ,but not in time
Echoes of "I love you " play thoroughly in my head
Turn the station, I don't like this song anymore ...
by Craig Sipe |
Categories:
food, love, sexy,
The Cinnamon Bazooka Bun is an ardent dough
a pound of sticky heat that dissolves
the tongue in an ****** of butter.
There is an uncertain pantless fervor here
in the parked Impala, a craven pursuit of the
spiral core, winding mounds of sacchariferous frit
A cop drives by--and we shrink in our non-chalance
our frosted, reunion-phased glaze betrays no chance
that something untoward is not happening here.