Fuck This Shit

Everything is just a god damn fuckin' nightmare.
When you're computer illiterate.
I can e-mail, search the web, order stuff
but don't know shit beyond that and
there's no way to find out.  In school,
We had fat crayons in kindergarten,
learned the ancient art of cursive writing,
learned our way about on a typewriter.
Now, I'm limited in what I can do
because I wasn't born with a computer
up my ass.  there are no basic  classes anymore
Local college official says they're not needed.
People that know don't want to help like
it's some sort of burden on them.  On-line
tutorials are crap, they don't make sense.
What I need is supposed to be so laughably simple
Yet I don't know how to do it.  And end up stuck.
And they wonder why people go 'postal'.



Underground

So, I find this poetry site
On-line 'underground',
That's the claim anyway.
By 'underground' I expect
Something hard hitting
And bold, life in the real.
Maybe some play on words,
Colorful vernacular, shocking
From the gut observations.
Hell, the stuff they got
I could read to granny or
At Sunday school.  It's like
What Ms. Prissy would write
For the ladies' garden club,
Everything as dynamic as
A cool summer breeze.
But they're 'underground',
As 'underground' as an old
Squirrel's nuts.