Milwauke, WI (original writing)

O, to be a mad man
a poet
a genius
a revolutionist
who can grasp
the Californian sands

To abandon
the midwestern mind
the midwestern simpletons
Who, when starved
feast on footballs,
beer, and tits

O, these Wisconsin traditions
leaving trails of dead deer
trails which lead to a couch
in time for reality T.V.

O, how this mirror
brings me peace
in a reflected solitude
a glass sanctuary
alone and away
from a world not my own
in my salty eyes
I stay

Every direction
every turn
every highway
every attempt to escape
is just a deceitful
dead end

How can my planet spin
in a city so flat?

O, Milwaukee
How I hate you
and your polluted
snatch