News from the Frontal Lobe (& hold that thought, hard)
       

Despite what the paranoids, wackos,
& conspiracy nutters believe, the New World Order
isn't really about little pale blue helicopters
crossing prize flatlands in the night
& it isn't about the federales' registration of
aberrant neurotransmitters concealed under
sporting or sub-trade cap logos,
it's about Mono-Culture taking over my radio
(& I don't mean their radio or your radio).

Hystereo-talk, trash-talk, psycho-babble, it's all
the same Excited States of Americana to us here in the
chilled out upper terminal states,
when the local eye in the sky air-head breaks in
after the OK Tire ads with "what's your sign?" I say
"what's your frequency?" & it feels like it's doing
giant copter-blade-wheelies into my head
& its payload wriggles & slithers like the United
Snakes of the World.

Still, there's something comforting about the thought
that while it may be high-tech biochemical bandaids
are holding my goddamn brain together,
those wily wingnuts are busy mainlining themselves
direct to the cortex with the steady drip
of synthetic snakeoil.

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Copyright © 2016 Stephen Bett All rights reserved
from The Gross & Fine Geography
Salmon Poetry
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission