Telefissures

Telefissures

It takes their tampered, totted cries  

and tapes their telefishy eyes 

to a telefight surprise, 

‘r 

a settle down diguise, 

‘r  

a gummy-beared primer 

(glued to lush liars) 

and ignites the green duh-misers 

stirring in the fury 

with children’s prying eyes, 

mating mirrors with every fear, 

and lies 

enticing tears over blame, 

stroking it 

 with same-fame stipulation 

that curses growth with angry aging 

inside fined purses perpetually waning. 

It is self-degrading  

to be raised in a cage 

 that’s mutilating many mini malleable membranes. This damnation, 

Be Mine Nation 

is rewinding what’s evolving. 

We emerge  

without the knowing 

or the feeling to imagine  

what’s beyond this canned creation 

in a box that stifles striving  

while depriving 

what’s surviving  

that prevents this color-sighing, 

chained in doubt 

and Highly Defining  

what is God 

with what’s kicked out, 

but every single you and me 

can go beyond the infinite 

and free 

and past the common pits. 

Deathly, 

sated sayings will drop off, 

to which this box has all what’s not, 

will writhe you, ride you, 

make you rot, 

and now it’s time to make it stop  

judging.