Litkicks Message Board Archive

A Sage in the Living Room

Posted to Poetry

The old man says, "Individuality is purity", his thoughts
whirring through his skull
Remote control in his hand
The tiny numbers on the buttons worn completely due to the sweat of his grip bonding with Cheetos grease
causing chemical reaction
The plus/minus signs of the volume control also
all but erased.

"Action is only inaction undisciplined", he thought. fluffing the couch pillow to prop up his head,
legs curled up, feet becoming warm under buttocks
Screams of car tires, blasts of machine guns echoing from T.V.
Light hypnotizing the old man into the calm realm of a midnite nap

"Virtue confuses nature", eyelids getting heavy now,
his skin flick meditation getting the best of him
His calm hands slinking serpentine down from nipples
to hairy belly, breath crescendoing in cadence with his heartbeat--
fingertips leaving a comet tail-like trail of imitation cheese flavored corn snack crumbs
Down further past the elastic of his silk pajamas which are tightly hugging the love handles born from his
cholestorol lust.

Through heavy breath moans, another thought rolls out,
"I carry no fault if I carry compassion", feet twitching in pure, undisciplined, natural ecstacy
The old man raises remote like the wand of the wizard
he believes himself to be