Open Wide

Guitar strings and magazines,
The newsprint stains my callused hands
As I leaf through the ADD
And cultural regurgitation.

Songs that have meaning matter to me
But pop fluff clogs the radiowave arteries.
I let it slide past, leaving it for idle ears
Minds like dirty sponges cloaked in the filth
Of society's refuse

I write things; sometimes well, sometimes amateur.
I strive for solid pillars of granite
But often end up with sliding liquids,
Words tumbling down storm drains
Off to be mixed up and watered down,
Tumbled about and quickly forgotten
In the sea of Twitter-account diarrhea
That passes for news these days.

A civilization of thinkers, now an island
Shrinking.
The stones on the beach smoothed out
And leeched of color, bone-white,
Mixing with the skeletons
Who grip their smartphones like life-rafts,
As if unaware they've passed on.

That's the only color now.
Electronic displays, glowing,
Cluttered with brands and logos
And bright shiny things.
Playing against the dark.
Still screaming, still selling
(Open wide, sir, I promise you won't be sorry.)
As empty sockets stare back, blackly, like tombs.