Wednesday, June 1, 2022

WROTE IT SOME TIME AGO BUT IT DOESN'T FEEL LIKE IT

 PUBLISHED TODAY

 BY 

SYNCHRONIZED CHAOS INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE


Poetry from Sheryl Bize-Boutte

Posted on 06/01/2022 by Synchronized Chaos


LEFT TO HIS OWN DEVICES


Sheryl J. Bize-Boutte

Copyright © Sheryl J. Bize-Boutte 2017



The lawnmower, the blender, the VCR,

The radio, the camera, the engine in the car,

A mechanical attention,

Would take him far

Spirited away by the reel-to-reel hum

Introverted they said, crazy said some

Fever passed on from father to son

She lied to him when she said he was the best

And after she never answered his text

The IPOD, the IPAD, the laptop keys

All interest lost in the birds and the bees

The room, the space, the secret stash,

Parents short on love provide plenty of cash

No friends, no prospects, riding the mist

A new world to inhabit became his wish

Real flesh, real life, is just too hard

No benefits discovered

In dropping his guard

With no competition for his number of wins

Fantasy is reality yet again

Screen words declare him the ultimate of all

Inside he can make many more fall

With nothing else to do 

On this side of the frame

They will all find it easy

To remember

His name

Eyes closed

Racked it once

And entered the game


No comments:

Post a Comment