You Glimmering in the Rain: or How to Stop Worrying and Love Reality TV

by Bill Blick

You glimmering in the rain

You again

You shimmering, gleaming, amongst the streams of water and beams of light

Amidst the junkies on the corner

And the choir of worms in the alley

Thunderbird wine spilling down in the gutter

I utter my futile protest

I will go down with this ship

I will sink like a stone

I will jump on the grenade

And come up all alone

Snip snip snip

Edit the film

Skip, skip, skip to the good parts

The bad guy in a ten gallon hat

The midnight crooners full with all their glory

This is the story of the man behind the anthem

The march to liberation beyond the deceitful

Trappings of a bygone era funneled through

The mouthpiece hipster

In disbelief we watch creation go down in

A flaming nocturnal emission

Don’t look too soon and don’t gaze into the light

I long for

Sunlit beaches of Galapagos untouched

By corruption of big city

None of your business, big business

Mind your own business, business

And head home again

Drink the whiskey

Swill the ale

Forsake your riches

Forsake yourselves

No one cares


About dignity

Does anyone remember dignity?

Or is it distant roar from the bottomless


A rumble from underneath the reality TV set

Remember truth

Truth like a flaming arrow

Truth like a blunt instrument

A spoon to spoon out the frivolity and triviality

Of wayward existence

Am I talking to you or

Kim Kardashian’s press agent

You again glimmering in the goddamned rain

Is it you?

I mean you

I mean really you

Not a sound bite in a presidential campaign

Is it you,

Not the military police of political correctness

Weeding out everything for a false utopia

There is Hades in the bottom of a Cap’n Crunch box

There is brimstone and fire under our beds

We need only read the newspapers

And see what they want us to see

Doesn’t anyone use the cerebral cortex anymore

Don’t the tigers eat their young

Men in blue suits cannibalize our generation

And spit out all hopes of redemption

But I say there is hope

In every word that breaks the silence

In every person who chooses the individual thought

Over bitterness, cruelty, indifference

In every person who reaches out seeking to console

Instead of devouring every lost shred of evidence

Of humanity, of truth, of love

Diamonds in the rough you say

One in a million you pray

Bastards grind you down

You say

Don’t let the bastards grind you down

They do it with whiskey and heroin

They do it with god and church

They do with politics and correctness

They do by isolating the poet

The true poet who stands before the job market

And can’t fit in to make ends meat to eat

Who can’t breathe

Who can’t exhale

Who can’t raise his kids

Who can’t love life

Who can’t eat with loved ones

Who can’t exist without a preexisting condition

Don’t give up us, man


The ones who see that it doesn’t take a fist and gun or facebook page or linkedin profile

Or a million dollars

To be human

All I want is to exist

And for this I must bet my head to the devil

And hope the roulette wheel comes up on red

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Filed under Issue 7, Poetry

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