Watch Out!
Lani Innes Is Out Of Control!
Time and again, Lani Innes rocks my world. She'd lend me her last clean brassiere (well, maybe) or hook me up with strangers across the world at the drop of a hat.
Over the six months I spent in Texas, United States, she and I were in weekly if not daily or hourly contact as we struggled with drudgery, homesickness and long hours bathing in the brain melting glow of our computer screens.
Across the ether, Lani inspired these ICQ slam poems, and to Lani Innes I dedicate them.
I'm afraid not,
I'm trapped.
And he has dogs
Hair-shedding dogs
clambering and slobbering
hairy ghosts to inspire my asthma.
But I'm not worried
I just want to breathe enough
six months
no oxygen
Harmony?
Screen glowing
crystal fingers reach up
caressing ether.
Alas! Alas!
My memory is lost
My little package
gone
gone like my Mastercard payment
Alas!
He a song stealer
a word drug dealer
a screaming mimi of a wordsmith fake
thas wha' he i'
tha wha
Mo' Peter on the track
dissin' ya into heart attack
move y'all's ass
o ah'll bite that tiny dog ass
work
modern work
modem works?
slide rules
with computers
and forks.
Surrounded by information
we survey and survive
with illusions and ignorance
we'd rather be snoring
than wake to pain.