A.j. Binash

Rookie - 44 Points (04-20-1988 / Dodgeville WI)

Miley Cyrus Perceived as a Martyr

Miley leaps from a thought bubble.
Her American grown hair flails in the violet sunlight.
In a whisper:
"I heard the stitches were sewn
With inch long gaps
Between each loop
Of the chain like pattern."
And the sun won't become red today.
Such a color is a purveyor of dominance.
(More of a Das Kapital.
Less like a Mein Kampf)
At least it's pretending to shine purple.
What we perceive of the physical
Is a byproduct of the mental.
The world is viewed through lilac petals,
Peeled as a vertical.
Miley lands on the ground
Layered with wood-chips.
Her mounting causes ripples.
Like pennies perceived as wishes,
Tossed into a tax-dollar purchased
Park fountain.
In a whisper:
"He stuck his tongue into the wound."
"How? What about the stitches? "
Those anticipating her descent, question.
"He parted one of the inch-long-gaps
As if he was performing oral sex on a female.
Then danced his tongue. The taste of nickel
Ravishing his taste buds."
Those anticipating her conversation
Discuss in a huddle how to respond.
Those anticipating her descent,
Walk away in defeat.
Miley braids her hair.
She confuses the flashing cameras as moonlight.
For the air is too polluted with peripheral vision
To establish a clear image.
And those who would steal pennies from fountains,
Well aware they're wishes,
Condemn those who would steal pennies from fountains
Well aware they're a means for sustenance.
"Starvation is cheaper for the populace.
Death is inexpensive."
They say.
That's where culture describes humanity.
At one time a flamboyant display of unique thought.
A discussion of ideas that
Starts and ends with focus groups.
Creative minds deciding which color will look the prettiest
While they indulge in hedonistic activity that makes
Sodom & Gomorrah look like Minnesota in mid-winter.
I heard a rumor
That Picasso painted Guernica in defiance of war.
I also heard
That Kanye West recorded Yeezus in honor of Neo-liberalism.
He's the voice of our culture.
And they call us the Rx Generation.
A lunatic filled youth movement,
Comprised of mutt blood
And throats dried from swallowing too many pills.

The consumption and ridicule of their narcotic in-take
Is determined by legality.

The same could be said
About modern day thinking.

Submitted: Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Topic of this poem: life

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