Flag Stickers and Yellow Ribbons
Beginning after this post, I'm excited to say that my lyrics/poems/stories, as well as reviews and maybe even photographs will appear together with friend/musical and lyrical great/ geosociopolitical activist Matthew Good and brother/great writer and existential humanist/soldier Daniel Regelbrugge on a collective arts site, www.workproject.blogspot.com
At least for the time being, I will utilize the Patriot for my non-creative writing, etc., work. Anyone who has enjoyed any of the ramblings on this site, please do check out theworkproject, not only for my stuff but for that of Matt and Daniel. Pretty cool shit, and ultimately it will feature contributions well beyond our unholy trinity.
That said, I wrote the following while pondering the prevalence of these godawfully cheesy flag stickers and yellow ribbons that I see on so many cars. In my opinion, I'll wager that 90% of those brandishing said stickers and ribbons on their cars are republicans. This is my humble retribution:
“Flag Stickers and Yellow Ribbons”
Coughing …
Seated beside him
And his smoking jacket,
She pressed a finger to his lips
Through the thick and thin of his dirty beard
… He smiled …
And she uttered her disgust:
For the smell
For his shadow
For feeling dead
When she didn’t feel nowhere.
Flag stickers and yellow ribbons
On the back of his pickup,
He was a Bud man
But tried to live the high life
In his jumbled dream
Of striving to be one of the guys.
Seeking definition
In advertisements,
He’d stare at richer men
And envy clothes
But call them nancy boys
To his knee-slapping pals.
He was a patriot
He was a chicken shit
He loved the lord
He fucked behind her back
He was a hunk papa
He watched tv.
He didn’t make out what she said
… Something about smell and dead …
He was trying to watch tv
And she was annoying him,
As usual.
But he figured it had been a while,
And four kids later
She still wasn’t so bad to look at
So he felt she deserved
To merit the pleasure
Of going down on him.…
And all the while
Coughing …
Seated beside him
And his smoking jacket,
She pressed a finger to his lips
Through the thick and thin of his dirty beard
… He smiled …
And she uttered her disgust:
For the smell
For his shadow
For feeling dead
When she didn’t feel nowhere.
Flag stickers and yellow ribbons
On the back of his pickup,
He was a Bud man
But tried to live the high life
In his jumbled dream
Of striving to be one of the guys.
Seeking definition
In advertisements,
He’d stare at richer men
And envy clothes
But call them nancy boys
To his knee-slapping pals.
He was a patriot
He was a chicken shit
He loved the lord
He fucked behind her back
He was a hunk papa
He watched tv.
He didn’t make out what she said
… Something about smell and dead …
He was trying to watch tv
And she was annoying him,
As usual.
But he figured it had been a while,
And four kids later
She still wasn’t so bad to look at
So he felt she deserved
To merit the pleasure
Of going down on him.…
And all the while
He could still watch tv.
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