OverStimulation////////////////

OverStimulation////////////////

Thursday, January 26, 2017

Theoretical argumentative essay on the topic of flying cars


Let’s face it people: They’re fucking dangerous.
I don’t wanna run outta oil 300 feet in the air.
I don’t want some drunkard

falling outta the sky,

exploding in my backyard at 3 a.m.,

and taking my shed with ’em.

No sir,
I’ll take a car that drives on dirt.
I’ll take a car that breathes the same air as me.
Because I don’t care how many propellers it has;

no damn car

could be weightless
as a bird.


I mean, who are they kidding?
We weren’t meant to have wings.
We weren’t meant to have gills, or three eyes neither.
Cats hunt rats cause they got claws.
I live
on land
not in sky.

And so it just ain't right.
I couldn’t trust the cars
or the people in ‘em.
And you shouldn’t neither.






Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Frankie and the Dog


They colorized a picture of Frank Sinatra.

They gave him shining, perfectly sculpted pearl teeth,
radiating crystal-blue eyes,
and saturated, golden skin.

I’m sweeping pink flower petals into the trash, looking at it.

“Frank Sinatra didn’t look like that,” I think to myself.

“He had crooked teeth, dirty teeth.”

I think about the old black-and-white pictures of him.
I think about the stories where he berated women,
and said racist things about Sammy Davis Jr.,

and I clip the dead branches off my plants 
to make them healthy.

“Nobody could have eyes that blue,” I think as I look at the picture again.

“He looks like a digital saint.” 

Images of stained glass pour through my mind. Frankie and the rat pack are immortalized in glass windows, smoking cigars, bringing music to the desert. 

I hear “Fly Me to the Moon.”

I see the rings of Saturn. I imagine what summer is like on Jupiter,
with purple waves of chemicals rustling like dead leaves,
and I look back at the picture of Frank. 

“That skin looks like the product of radiation.”

I think about the nuclear scare of the 50s, bombs falling out of planes, people dying in muddy trenches, jungles vanishing in orange flame,

and I become altogether too sad looking at that picture of Frankie.

So I popped it into photoshop,

made it black and white like I thought it ought to be, 
and added a cute dog to cheer myself up.