When I write poetry
I try to think
Of absurdity
And become it
I try to think
Of absurdity
And become it
Why Children should Never Talk to Strangers with Pitchforks
how about we carry out
a few despicable deeds
we’ll kick down doors
spit on floors, bite the hand that feeds
we’ll grab a man from off the street
tie his feet, slam his head
and when his brain wakes up we’ll say
“it didn’t have to be this way
you chose to go outside today
we need supplies”
surprise!
kids these days, it’s horrible
they games they play, deplorable
their minds are wrought with wholesome rot
and their elders think it queer
that they’re here filled with laughter
sending some stranger to the hereafter
before sitting in Sunday’s institutions
gobbling up mental malnutritions
“what a lovely drawing!”
“that’s an odd shade of red.”
after class, out on the grass
in midst of hopscotch and ball
children rub all the fun from their hands
they understand the importance of staying clean
and good hygiene is close to godliness
as I am close to godliness
at least that’s what the children believe
I perceive that these days
it is simpler to disguise oneself as god
to a child, all they’ll do is nod
adults have such odd heads
while youngsters can not tell sinner from saint
as long as you promise them red finger-paint
how about we carry out
a few despicable deeds
we’ll kick down doors
spit on floors, bite the hand that feeds
we’ll grab a man from off the street
tie his feet, slam his head
and when his brain wakes up we’ll say
“it didn’t have to be this way
you chose to go outside today
we need supplies”
surprise!
kids these days, it’s horrible
they games they play, deplorable
their minds are wrought with wholesome rot
and their elders think it queer
that they’re here filled with laughter
sending some stranger to the hereafter
before sitting in Sunday’s institutions
gobbling up mental malnutritions
“what a lovely drawing!”
“that’s an odd shade of red.”
after class, out on the grass
in midst of hopscotch and ball
children rub all the fun from their hands
they understand the importance of staying clean
and good hygiene is close to godliness
as I am close to godliness
at least that’s what the children believe
I perceive that these days
it is simpler to disguise oneself as god
to a child, all they’ll do is nod
adults have such odd heads
while youngsters can not tell sinner from saint
as long as you promise them red finger-paint
Am I dying?
if I don’t pay attention to every
thump thump bump thump
of that excited muscle I keep in a cage
will it stop singing?
if I start to listen
to the whistling wind
blowing through the weeds
in trachea forest
will it calm?
if I force my curtains
to stay open
so that I might look out on the world
every minute
every second
until I start to cry from its beauty
will the men
in my head
shut me down?
the ringing
in my ears
those pixie wails
tiny banshee shrieks
will they ever be satisfied?
if I stand up straight
like a soldier so solid
will my sanity
slide?
will my legs
stop itching?
will the worms
cease squirming
under my flesh
above my flesh
inside my flesh
along my flesh
they’re everywhere
if I don’t pay attention to every
thump thump bump thump
of that excited muscle I keep in a cage
will it stop singing?
if I start to listen
to the whistling wind
blowing through the weeds
in trachea forest
will it calm?
if I force my curtains
to stay open
so that I might look out on the world
every minute
every second
until I start to cry from its beauty
will the men
in my head
shut me down?
the ringing
in my ears
those pixie wails
tiny banshee shrieks
will they ever be satisfied?
if I stand up straight
like a soldier so solid
will my sanity
slide?
will my legs
stop itching?
will the worms
cease squirming
under my flesh
above my flesh
inside my flesh
along my flesh
they’re everywhere
One Last Look at the Priceless Flower
I stood over you
And I held your hand
There was nothing in your eyes
A faint, induced smile on your lips
With the lights over me, did I look like an angel to you?
Were you smiling because you couldn’t feel?
I told you you’d better slow down
But I also trusted you to live your own life
We all knew the shit would kill you some day
But I never could have guessed the shit would kill you some day
Or that some day was this day
I stand over you
And I hold your hand
There is nothing in your eyes
A quiet, pursed frown on your lips
With the lights down on you, you look like an angel
I am crying because you can not feel
I stood over you
And I held your hand
There was nothing in your eyes
A faint, induced smile on your lips
With the lights over me, did I look like an angel to you?
Were you smiling because you couldn’t feel?
I told you you’d better slow down
But I also trusted you to live your own life
We all knew the shit would kill you some day
But I never could have guessed the shit would kill you some day
Or that some day was this day
I stand over you
And I hold your hand
There is nothing in your eyes
A quiet, pursed frown on your lips
With the lights down on you, you look like an angel
I am crying because you can not feel
And when I wake up
From my strange visions
I see that poems
Have been written
From my strange visions
I see that poems
Have been written
