Tagged: abuse

Killing For Revelation

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There are holes in the Ziploc bag.

Snow coated.

Breaks in the lines,

Sparking electrical wires

Melting alpine peaks

And itchy noses

Cut with methamphetamine

And the surgeon’s

Favorite razor.

The poets are scratching,

Shitting poetry

Bearing teeth

And grinding needles

In mildew corners

“Shit stings brother”

In that lavender pink

Codeine sky

The sweet thick stink

And an oasis of empties

Christ on the cross faded nausea

It’s Only Natural

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a stone does not mean to be cruel
contained in arrogance
it just is


nations perpetually christened
in genocide
but they must be


domineering husbands
and the bartender
has a fat lip
but she has to


sacrifice the women,
the children
anything
for the survival
of the white man.

the oligarchy has finished eating
kind enough
to feed us the crust
embezzled with the phlegm
of each of their celestial
C.E.O.s

multi colored
multi variables
some reek of mustard gas
some are only stale,
with cyanide following,


silent
others biZzare shades and huEs
anti freeze: bright blue
but finally another knot in my stomach
and the sweet taste in my mouth.

Writing to Routine

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Making plans

Manipulating phrases

Chiseling poetry:

Fallen, forgotten, worlds

Nostalgia, fear

Connection, obsession.

7 worded nights

Fighting after they’ve taken

Your will to live

Fighting with nothing left to lose

Fighting with fingers

Mashed into

A potato fist

Clashing batons

Whipping, slashing rounds

And I’ll stand in the middle of

The battleground

With little, but

Crippled fists

From bashing faces

Into misconceptions

Of “art”

Only the greats would envy

If they could only see

If the product

Wasn’t so impermanent

As a newly born author

Picking up his first pen

In the street

Outside his first

Wholesale purchase

Of cheap liquor.

 

Before the show.

Im supposed to write lyrics
With spondees and pyrrhics
The words will be angry
Or the words will be satiric
Words like gangrene
Words acidic

Searching through Pappy’s drugs
He loved his roses, I, the hungry bug
Searching through tainted needles
I just wanted the love of the people
To be a man of the Steeple

But when human flesh
Is so like steel
For frayed neurons
Frantically afraid to feel

What is a boy to do?
When they’re the Nazi
And you’re the Jew

Aquatic Genocide

I
Hope is a thing with feathers
Weary, starved
The halo transparent
Constricting noose
Grips like chipped finger nails
The casings of sin
Atrocities committed
Infest like hungry rodents
the beautifully feminine mind
A grip like thumb and forefinger
Against the gullet of the queen
She never got to choose to drink the cool aid
She never got the option
To not be poisoned by her children
The children never gave her one.
II
The cracking sun damaged bones
The crumbling beachfront skull
That held
gut wrenching reactions
To hungry eyed needles and pricks
Reactions
So like our own
The consumer
The infant clenching skipping stone
Carelessly tossing
The rock prancing
Like Jesus across the water
Dropping into the sea
Like a round between the eyes
Rippling into
Deforestation
Plasticizers
Environmental degradation
The cause of death
For passive cadaver
Heat searing blade
Oozing
Oozing
Oozing
Stomach contents
Lighters
Plastic northern star specs
Pointing to malnutrition
And starvation

If Seaguls could Pray they’d Pray for an end with the junk drawer contents of their stomachs served to hungry mouths on a Silver platter.

Plugged
brought to the edge
the only release
half gallon vodka
and motel matches
regurgitated
soldering iron stomach acid
stomach lining in the sand
third degree burns
fuse the throat
simmer down
nobody can hear you speak
no one to sit, so you can stand
sealed envelope
always yearning
through constant hunger pains
but to reach for the forbidden fruit
to satisfy the needs
is to swallow the burning cross
that is the essence of creation
Someone poisoned the water hole
And the only thing that kills worse than DDT
Dissolving into nonconsentual skin
Is dehydration

The Scarlet Cooler

Her toes sink into the mud
cold beers daddy pulls out of
the cooler
she lays on the blanket
lifting her skirt

feeling the warm sun
on the back of her thighs
he watches
drinking cold corona
out of his scarlet cooler
the scared yet?
cooler
darker than blood

She lifts her foot
but the mud rises
daddys drinking cold corona
out of his red cooler
she shrieks disbelief
“Daddy why?
Daddy
I don’t want to die”

His head spins
“where’d that little
bitch
run to?”
grabbing her by the wrist
he pulls
“Daddy it hurts”

He grazes the crotch of his jeans
and he pulls
“STOP DAD”

“shut up”

she cries
screams
he hears a crack
and her arm lies limp at her side

Lifting her over his shoulder
his hand on the back of her thighs

standing erect
slurring
bronze

“My arm Daddy.”

Lying her down on the blanket
he cracks open another beer

Modern Day Monroe

She stands at the bus stop
Monroe piercing
lonely, starry-eyed
she sifts through the gutters
for halvsies
and whatever smells
of marijuana

She stands
four inch heels
waiting for the number 6
so she can get to the poor part of time
town

and suck the cocks of men
that resembles her father
loosely
and for money
the last time she saw her father
posters of Monroe paved plaster
and stuck her face
for the name

she tried college
her report card
consistent
A big red C-A-B
Passing, sucking off
back of a C-A-B
the best grade she’ll recieve
until after he cums.

Daddy always read the big words
out loud
She was an investment
So he’d sound it out for her

I-N-C-A-R-C-E-R-A-T-I-O-N

Sometimes when she’s working
she remembers laying on the couch
her legs on his lap 

I-N-C-A-R-C-E-R-A-T-I-O-N

Now he knows the definition better than anyone
and she still loves, but fails to forgive

there are some words in that dictionary
too foul to remember.