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Put Away the Why'n

from Luvchild Meltdown by The Good Hard

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lyrics

my brain is failing.

at the heart of the death of the earth
is the glory of the human mind.

from scrotiform lip-reader
to under grand central.

the monologues
of the spectacular caregiving accident
craft ever new obsessions
from the parameters of our
iconic intoxication.

maybe i wuzn’t raised hard enuf.

by battling children battling
in fiction for battles beyond fiction,
we catch the final face disease
from the haughty, capricious uniformity
of profitable deadbeats forcing us
to see the good in ppl.

maybe i shd try harder
to commodify my confusion.

art has become a flaming, bitchy detente
between a sexy agenda of lameness
and the latent bitching content
that hates democratic outcomes
because they’re not pretending to be
programatically cataclysmic enuf.

i pounced, i starved, i acted self-reliant.

as of several core deletions ago,
everyone owns an instant hideaway,
the silver lining has replaced coming apart together,
and explosive, non-perishable foods
drag all the literary figures into hot hazards
running amok on shared servers.

apparently, the I have to begin
by giving up on the poem, as the phrase
“stick it back in me, woman,”
keeps forcing itself into
most favored pre-contamination status
under the title…

shake it, you oil-dippt dog.

pardon the mess,
i’m performing surgery on myself.

it’s like the move to mars happened,
but nobody told anybody,
so here we are, half-breathing
the complaining air of over-bookt graves.

i beg to differ, but i rarely do.

the general agreement
about wut’s gone wrong with “i am that”
keeps us perfectly entertrained.

frantic social exterior…contradictory
medical opinions…sustainability all the rage…
fail to impress in non-consensual sporty….

we are all now the great
terrible leader painting ourselves
into an escape hatch whose bitter
non-key judgment is a major player
in the subtl approach to dumping.

will you feel my forehead?

if u can’t take derision, get off deride.

why can’t i find this chicken shit hilarious?

why can’t i sell more aggravating appreciations?

life is only alive to the death in my scope.

howbout you keep what you’re going thru from going thru me.

that’s not really wut ppl do anymore.

i miss everything, even this missing.

here come those bright forebodings of war.

good. i can finally be alone.

maybe we’re still too into tasting
each other to mix our ingredients.

put away the why’n
til it takes u home
put away the why’n
like u mite uncode
put away the why’n
that confounds u
put away the why’n
that expounds u

put away the why’n
put away the why’n
put away the why’n that surrounds u
put away the why’n

credits

from Luvchild Meltdown, released June 30, 2018

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The Good Hard

The Good Hard is playwright, poet, and musician Kirk Wood Bromley's band featuring players and producers in NYC and Arizona. Email the "Contact The Good Hard" link below if you wanna talk.

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