Prose Poems

Say It Ain’t So.

Smoking a ready roll from another last pack promise, I’m gasping at the news presenters proffer that the kit and caboodle of a terrorist technique leaves a smoking gun among the social media breadcrumbs…

Quick..mix me a metaphor and force me to compose the breaking news chyron in call and response cadence, scrolling by our race to the bottom in sliding scale piece work, and what me worry.

We’ll just manufacture more mad magazines of high capacity culpability toe tapping the toe tag tally to the down tempo bulletin boogie of erstwhile bad disco.

Say it ain’t so.

Published by r.Douglas

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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