Friday, June 19, 2009

Life in the 21st Century

Friday, June 19, 2009


By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2009 by Philip Cairns

What part of “Fuck off” don’t you understand?
Your hemorrhoids are so huge,
Your asshole looks like the labia of an old whore.

I’m tired of poverty and struggle.
I’m sick of rejection and doors slammed in my face.
Let me taste a bit of success, again.

I want to look at the world from my seventh floor balcony,
Stretching my muscles on the cold concrete
In the darkness of the night.

I want sexual fulfillment
And a pink bow tied around my flaccid penis.
I want what I want and I want it now!!
Not tomorrow or next year
Or when I grow up or turn 65.

I want a life.
Not a broken puzzle,
A ringing phone that no one answers.
Fuck the half full jar of pennies on my wobbly wooden stand.
I want enough of everything.

Say “yes” when I whisper in your ear.
Call me up when I send you my resume.
Once I thought I loved you.
Maybe I really did.
Now it seems like blind, stupid lust.
Your once taut belly now turning to flab.

That’s not why I don’t want to see you.
It’s your superiority and contempt that stops me from picking up the icy phone.
Your jaw-dropping selfishness.
Now I see you for the tedious bore you really are.
Your phony two-faced smile.
Fans can’t see past those duck lips and the bulge in your pants.
I can!!

“Piss off.”
Is that clear enough?
I don’t want much.
Not a mansion or a pink Cadillac.
I can live without diamonds and all the things I’m supposed to want.

Just give me peace and quiet.
A good book.
Some hot flesh when I want it.
Conversations with decent friends.
Art to soothe my nerves.

Let me look at a book of Monet’s “Water Lilies” on my death bed.
That will ease the transition to the other side.
Ban the priest from my room
Then let me blow the male nurse before my last gasping breath.

Life is full of nasty surprises
Sneaking up and squeezing your balls when you least expect it.
Life is a Jayne Mansfield car wreck.
James Dean was nominated for two Oscars after he died.
A lot of good that did him.

Listen to the gorgeous sound of the ocean
Outside my imaginary home.
It’s the most beautiful music in the world.
I love to walk in the sun on a soothing summer day.
Smell the fresh smog as it burns the cancer in my lungs.
I’d like a Close Encounter of the Third Kind.

There is no unemployment on Pluto.
Purple is the sound of ecstasy and infinity.
The Afterlife is one big drunken coffee break,
So I am told.
I can’t wait to find out the real, honest to God truth.