Dirty Martinis – – – a Poem

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Down Dirty martinis
Whilst surfing the waves of disdain with a judgmental 
youth conscious urbane crew
of armchair professionals
self impressed
more or less in this our modern day debacle
Everyone's attitude is that of an "eat me" liberal although
tyrannical
in a strange kind of historical way
In overpriced loafers
and fashion's discontent
The others run a race nonetheless 
a narrow minded quest
A mental hazing of sorts
A poltergeistic
sport
Many purport
where the one who wins is
far from
the athletic best
in the hashing
quarters
or on the new millennium's
court
Khakis and authentic Birkenstocks
Foster bleeding heart ballyhoo
From hypocritic hippies
with inverted cocks
and invisible
navels
Impressed by pretentious sweat house made labels
Believing..............
Believing that beauty is greater
the closer one is to the cradle
High profile position on the 17th floor
and once more in a modernistic
narcissistic
pseudo altruistic tower of Babel
Where the concubine secretaries
fake flat nippled
ripple free
plastic orgasms
And the wives cross-town
are a complete Xanax induced bore
While she
You know the "Mrs"
of her own indifferent accord
8-5 playing an ambitious
a-line
skirted whore
to her triple chinned
payroll tyrant
who
makes a dutiful habit of sniffing
around every infinitesimal
higher educational
quintessential
XX fire-hydrant that settles for another
rung
on his corporate ladder
after four........pm
It's a tainted trade off for a lecherous score
The player's never
giving thought
to the forgotten
"For richer or poorer"
Thing or majigger 
Go figure
I see them every day
racing along the $2.75 toll highway
Bobbing skillfully
and swallowing
the world's
pungent salty cum
for another
15 cents and a hearty Fuck You
piece of the
pie
and yet
another rung.....
We run the race
I run it too
Although proudly without any souls on my shoes
Convincing myself
that this is the life
that I wanted
to have or to intellectually choose
But
inside I still feel discontent
and
the weight of disgrace's cinder blocks 
painted sad in complicated bluish hues
©2003 J.K. Bradford
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