Enlightenments of a Bedofa

For starters, she wishes to live in this new century
where elders and foreparents
proudly hop from customs to customs
(yet does not know the intricacies of using the
red button, the big red button
to turn on a tv)
Arses shall root deep down
to the corporative mandalas
while your ohms and uhs
send the quacktorial gurus
chuckling all the way the bank

We shall keep along,
certainly,
with your newfound charity
to be the nurseryhome
compacted streamlined
to a single man
to satisfy the decades
(your decades)
of abandoning the idiotic sibling
the retarded flockmember
of the family
as you harp on about sacrifices
and dissone onwards
about the ungratefulness of kin and blood

And still, we trudge on
and on,
days iceberg by
like a convalescent kept on charity
 like a serum plastic anopheles
was pumping good reputation (for the reluctant nurses)
and chances of getting better getting out
(for one who sleeps in the most personal bed ever)
It is okay, it is a ride an adventure a challenge:

Dawns shall become buzzes in your updowned brain
creaking alongside parks to maintain that bloddtrumpet
somewhat functioning (because good men are good boys and good minion-NURSES
FREE NURSES)
And you try to to anchor your bones to the floor
hope for the world to pull the break
for your brains to stop blooming on a headache
like the biggest pimple ever joyously terminated
by stepford matronas who will aneurysm
if the universe is one speck short of their perfect plans.

Onwards we end,
read to pretzel physics
into our pretended selfdiscipline
and goodwill
(it won´t last forever
-like the scent of nearcentennial bladders)
so here we are
where two meters of mankindness long
will somehow
sleep in a meter and half
of something once used to
scriptrelease
niceties with the latest
dishdirtiers.