4/23/25: bird song, all wrong

 today's prompt and a poem by Roque Salas Rivera.

what if birds are the equivalent of someone
who can't stop scatting? zipadee bop do bop.

zimataratamatazz-bee-doo. would we still
be taken to a place of peace and reverie?

bim-ba?

or would we ostracize the birds? whisper
about them at work functions? watch out
for benny over there, they just keep-

hum-hummita-ha-ha-hoo-

cornering me and asking if i like the 
ba-ba-da and how it resolves.

i think we both know the answer, friend.
those birds, maybe wearing a smart fedora,
wouldn't be welcome around here.

no-nah-noparooa-yah-da-yah-da-da-doh

not anymore.

slap

 

bing bop boom bop bing bop bam bop boom bop bam
and i made a million dollars on a song
and i spent a million dollars for a dream
and i made another million slinging supplements
and hawking my wares in a public space
on a public platform and where my voice is one
that drowns out the many

zip zap zop zim zalla zam zapparoo
and i told you a million times
how i made it in this cold world with no
blanket, no pot to take the proverbial piss
no step to step to, no home to hang my hat,
no heart to call my own. and i want you to 
feel this sadness and say, ok, and move along 
with your day. move on up. move on down. get
a little closer to the thing that makes and unmakes 
me. 

grimgramgoogrimgargroos
cut it and print it
smelt it and bake it
give me the goodness

and this right here, my american dream come true