Present Consumption – a poem by Eileen Tull

The time of now is the present of madness
Quoted everyone who ever lived in a time.
The walls of today are streaked, obfuscated windows and dog doors nailed shut.

The foundation of now’s house is rickety at best and always are the youth asked to rebuild.
Dig up, rebuild.
Dig up, rebuild.
Dig up, strengthen, and rebuild.
But don’t change.
Mustn’t change the document word for word penned by wigged white men who happened to be infallible
Just like the presumably white presumably male translators of a quite big book,
Nonfiction section
That recounts mythology
And questions basic biology.

The streaked walls are wettened
And covered in newspapers
If they still exist.
Or else print out the landing page of your favorite “news” source
“News” is in quotes.
The headlines pile over each other
Just paste the mass shootings over there,
They basically say the same thing.
Reused and rushed
The deadline is the byline, is your line, is my line
And nobody ever reads the text anyways.
Reporters are interpreters, not journalists.

The furniture of madmen is created out of discard.
You sleep in a Happy Meal box bed.
You are what you eat,
It’s nice to meet you, Manufactured Garbage Poison.
Madmen and Madwomen alike hoarding furniture pieces and combustible material.
You daughter makes a homemade bomb and throws it at the genitals of leaders.

The madness is present and presents itself as houseguest of forever, sly Fox.
Intelligence falls into decay but please still buy a phone that makes you dumber.
No one spells anything
Unless autocorrect is not walking currently.
Cover your ears with your Nike shoes.
Cover your eyes with pods.
Cover your nose with toner and hot sauce.
Cover your mouth with your “I Voted” sticker.

This house is in foreclosure.
You can’t live here anymore.