ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
July 3, 2004
HIT ME RUNNING by ~foxthepoetis the new anthem for culture zombies everywhere. It’s the hard-hitting, fast-paced tale of a man who’s ready to take on anything from the grim reaper to the apocalypse to the ever-intimidating opposite sex – and he’ll do it all from the couch in front of his television set.
Hey, man, lay off the meds. You’ll wear yourself out.
Literature Text
Don’t sell me funeral plots
on late night television
if the end is already in sight
am I supposed to pull the sheets up to my neck,
count to zero,
smile, and cease?
no
keep your pills, in all their pretty colors:
celebrex, propecia, allegra, lipitor, zanex, viagra
keep them for scrabble
keep your rogaine, your facelifts
keep your death insurance
keep your graveyard reservations
hit me running.
let me go down swinging
make it a sport:
give me a ten-minute head start
and an obstacle course.
place a beautiful girl on the far side of a mine field
and whisper, “she wants to kiss you”
target me on my feet
dodging doomsday’s in slow-mo bullet time
let me duel the grim reaper in a poetry slam
but let me lay where i fall
let the buzzards and coyotes
pick apart my bones
don’t stuff me and sew me up
waste my estate on alcohol for my wake
not formaldehyde
instead of wood for a coffin,
build me a funeral pyre
and set me ablaze like a pagan-warrior-king
sing songs,
roast marshmallows,
get drunk,
and recite your poetry
by the time we’re done
the grim reaper will beg for a vacation
i don’t have to win,
but let me believe I have a chance at immortality
even if the probability is one a billion.
those are good odds
if I’m the one
those who believe in death will die first
if I believe I’m going to live forever,
if I believe I can fly
I just might
so from the chickens before me,
sucking in their pot-bellies,
grooming their comb-overs,
I’ll craft wings from their plucked feathers
reach cruising altitude alongside Icarus
but outrace the sun
light doesn’t have the speed to catch me
these lungs won’t stop breathing,
these cells will break open replacements
this heart will beat out of sheer will
to last longer than timex or twinkies
and endure eternity
just to see how this story ends
and whether
the hero gets the girl
or a bullet to the brain
I will hold onto immortality
by my fingernails and the skin of my teeth
past the all epochs and ages and armageddons
so I can see if the end
begins the beginning all over again
or does the whole thing backwards
or upside down with inverted colors
or just stops
like in the Twilight Zone,
one second before the apocalypse
but my bet is that i
will finally sober up
take my medication
set the alarm
roll over
and turn the television off
on late night television
if the end is already in sight
am I supposed to pull the sheets up to my neck,
count to zero,
smile, and cease?
no
keep your pills, in all their pretty colors:
celebrex, propecia, allegra, lipitor, zanex, viagra
keep them for scrabble
keep your rogaine, your facelifts
keep your death insurance
keep your graveyard reservations
hit me running.
let me go down swinging
make it a sport:
give me a ten-minute head start
and an obstacle course.
place a beautiful girl on the far side of a mine field
and whisper, “she wants to kiss you”
target me on my feet
dodging doomsday’s in slow-mo bullet time
let me duel the grim reaper in a poetry slam
but let me lay where i fall
let the buzzards and coyotes
pick apart my bones
don’t stuff me and sew me up
waste my estate on alcohol for my wake
not formaldehyde
instead of wood for a coffin,
build me a funeral pyre
and set me ablaze like a pagan-warrior-king
sing songs,
roast marshmallows,
get drunk,
and recite your poetry
by the time we’re done
the grim reaper will beg for a vacation
i don’t have to win,
but let me believe I have a chance at immortality
even if the probability is one a billion.
those are good odds
if I’m the one
those who believe in death will die first
if I believe I’m going to live forever,
if I believe I can fly
I just might
so from the chickens before me,
sucking in their pot-bellies,
grooming their comb-overs,
I’ll craft wings from their plucked feathers
reach cruising altitude alongside Icarus
but outrace the sun
light doesn’t have the speed to catch me
these lungs won’t stop breathing,
these cells will break open replacements
this heart will beat out of sheer will
to last longer than timex or twinkies
and endure eternity
just to see how this story ends
and whether
the hero gets the girl
or a bullet to the brain
I will hold onto immortality
by my fingernails and the skin of my teeth
past the all epochs and ages and armageddons
so I can see if the end
begins the beginning all over again
or does the whole thing backwards
or upside down with inverted colors
or just stops
like in the Twilight Zone,
one second before the apocalypse
but my bet is that i
will finally sober up
take my medication
set the alarm
roll over
and turn the television off
Literature
november 2nd
squatting.
when all the formalities have
finally been packed away
in a box marked p.c.,
when they've been stored
in the attic until some later
season when couth is again
in fashion, we'll use the proper word:
squatting. or perhaps, renting.
sure, there are those who still like
to costume their actions in words
like "dating" or even "talking,"
but it is now much too cold
for such flimsy decorative terms.
bring on the wool sweaters,
the stocking caps, the sweatpants:
the truth.
the truth is an extra-large sweater
that you think you'll never grow into.
it takes courage to try it on, because
you do look foolish at first
Literature
To the girl I hit
Id never given an eulogy in my life and now for my first time, I was expected to give a speech about a girl I didnt know at all.
OK, maybe a girl I didnt know at all is somewhat untrue; I knew Abigail decades ago and by sick chance I had run her over a few days back, her parents remembered me and demanded I give the eulogy (new age grief therapy?)
Well here goes nothing: I hardly knew Abigail but in her last moments she showed me true kindness, forgiving me for my sin even though she wasnt ready to die (this was of course a lie, she jumped in front of my car screa
Literature
today.
today. I sat next to someone with the
same jacket as me. I'm sure she didn't
notice. So I thought of tapping her so
we could laugh over our faux-fur cuffs.
But she got off the bus while I was
writing this all down.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
2:00AM television offers life insurance, motorized scooters, insulin, body wraps, work out routines, diet plans, medications, hairwaxing, and plastic surgery. I want reruns of the Honeymooners, I Love Lucy, and cartoons. Just let us grow old and die naturally.
© 2004 - 2024 foxthepoet
Comments105
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Amazing work! Thank You