Instructions on how to win a popularity contest

welcome to the catwalk
toe up to dat chalk
we all tread our wears
but peel away the layers
sum of the plastic bubble?
hey I ain't here for no trouble
contrive and thrive
brain dead or alive
will it survive?

examining stress levels
from daily devils
come to naught
when divining afterthoughts
of undocumented terms
it don't make the worm squirm

instead make it up as you go along
you do it for a song
isn't nat what it's about?
it's all about clout
show biz wiz
because it isn't what it is
it's what it seems
take it to extremes
who would know?
even better for the flow?

going through life with eyes squinted
glasses rose tinted
doesn't sharpen the focus
bull shit hocus pocus
cuts down the scope
better than death on a rope?

what'd they say bout a blind squirrel?
you go girl
a squirrel. that's a rodent right?
words for a fight?
can a rat splat flat if
a tongue tyin acrobat?
now that's where it's at
with a baseball bat

roaches scamper cross my floor
you know what rhymes with floor
looking for crumbs
fucking dumb

don't misconstrue
 a clue
 2  for a dollar
 shit's getting taller

ka ching

Written by Scott Schoffstall
© January 6, 2011
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn

Brain Cell

there's a deceptive silence
thoughts reverberate
so many accomplices
ascend, incite
they vie for reprieve
but there's none for them

denied for another time
refused, they refuse
they're compelled to conspire
because they've not been released

past remembered, forgotten, it's all there
pain is a lifer that way
you banish it
it will find you
in fact it never leaves
it merely lies in wait

it becomes a platform
whereupon the new found its gallows
its noose, uncoils, awaits
it allies with the new to make certain the grip
when it snares you by the throat

you can't recall but it remains
it's there because it could seek no outlet
when it was still young and malleable
over time it hardened under the pressure of its mold
and now a keep is constructed
it has been laid stone upon stone
kept now by a firmed foundation

it's home. you know it well
it's no refuge though
a prison of time's making
with no pardon

Written by Scott Schoffstall
© December 31, 2010
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn