Everyone I love wants me to wake up
and smell "The Real World",
and for a second I thought they were talking
about that show on MTV where seven strangers
fight over who used the hair dryer last.
But I couldn't figure out what that
had to do with giving up on dreams
of filling my pockets with possibilities
of one nation under poetry, indivisible,
with liberty and passion for all.
Unless... they wanted me to be on "The Real World"
causing some chain reaction of life imitating art
where reality TV remakes reality in its image.
If that's the case,
I think that I might need to straighten a few things
with my orthodonist before I audition.
Because in "The Real World":
image is everything,
words are nothing,
and if I say I want a revolution
then I'll just have to play their games
of pin the tail on whoever used all
my fucking toothpaste motherfucker.
And who ate all my canteloupe pie,
I sob, tears welling up conviently in
the corners of my confessional booth eyes.
Although with lines like that,
there may be some questions of artistic intergrity,
because "The Real World" wants emotion raw as
a T-bone steak slapped across the ass of a Sugar Ray groupie
none of this poetic filtration found in metaphors and clever word play.
And really, does "The Real World" need any word-spoken cliches
when it has such a ready supply of them that live, breathe, fuck,
and bitch at each other for not tightening the mayonaise jar properly?
No, I think the revolution will have to be televised
by someone with far more fashion sense than
little old band T-shirt and black jeans me.
I think I'll just stick to my dreams.
and smell "The Real World",
and for a second I thought they were talking
about that show on MTV where seven strangers
fight over who used the hair dryer last.
But I couldn't figure out what that
had to do with giving up on dreams
of filling my pockets with possibilities
of one nation under poetry, indivisible,
with liberty and passion for all.
Unless... they wanted me to be on "The Real World"
causing some chain reaction of life imitating art
where reality TV remakes reality in its image.
If that's the case,
I think that I might need to straighten a few things
with my orthodonist before I audition.
Because in "The Real World":
image is everything,
words are nothing,
and if I say I want a revolution
then I'll just have to play their games
of pin the tail on whoever used all
my fucking toothpaste motherfucker.
And who ate all my canteloupe pie,
I sob, tears welling up conviently in
the corners of my confessional booth eyes.
Although with lines like that,
there may be some questions of artistic intergrity,
because "The Real World" wants emotion raw as
a T-bone steak slapped across the ass of a Sugar Ray groupie
none of this poetic filtration found in metaphors and clever word play.
And really, does "The Real World" need any word-spoken cliches
when it has such a ready supply of them that live, breathe, fuck,
and bitch at each other for not tightening the mayonaise jar properly?
No, I think the revolution will have to be televised
by someone with far more fashion sense than
little old band T-shirt and black jeans me.
I think I'll just stick to my dreams.
the real world has always pissed me off as a show.
getting 7 ppl to live in an amazingly cool house. given jobs. and then they all explode. it is like they take the most mentally unstable people and throw them together and call it "reality." i hate that crap.
the emotion like a t-bone steak. great line.
anyway man. i'm off to work.
well if i am not mistaken that is number four and i was right 3rd time is a charm
it is good to see you are still up and writing...
really liked this line....
I sob, tears welling up conveniently in
the corners of my confessional booth eyes.
but like i said previously you know how i feel about your words
E