Don't Read that Poem
pearlmutt
Posts: 392
or drink the water if it's produced by coke or polluted . . . Just a few lines from the bible, you know which one, by Luis J. Rodriguez (who pretty much knows you can say anything in a poem because, well who needs poetry when there's bottled water!)
Don't Read that Poem
for Patricia Smith
She rises from a chair
and slides
toward the stage with satin feet over a worn-wood floor . . .
Don't read that poem!
the one about a daughter raped and killed
in the shadow of a second's dark fury.
I want to hide in the neon glare above me;
to swim away in the glass of beer
I hold close to me.
She does another poem
about how many mouths
and I want to howl:
Don't read that poem!
that one that entices me to crawl under her skin,
to be her heartbeat.
Oh, how she plunks the right notes,
rendering me as clay in bruised hands.
No, don't do the one about
what it is to be
a nine-year-old black girl,
the truth of it trembling at my feet.
Somebody should make her stop!
I should be home, watching TV,
blank-eyed behind stale headlines
cold poplcorn on the couch,
a dusty turntable
going round and round and round . . .
Don't Read that Poem
for Patricia Smith
She rises from a chair
and slides
toward the stage with satin feet over a worn-wood floor . . .
Don't read that poem!
the one about a daughter raped and killed
in the shadow of a second's dark fury.
I want to hide in the neon glare above me;
to swim away in the glass of beer
I hold close to me.
She does another poem
about how many mouths
and I want to howl:
Don't read that poem!
that one that entices me to crawl under her skin,
to be her heartbeat.
Oh, how she plunks the right notes,
rendering me as clay in bruised hands.
No, don't do the one about
what it is to be
a nine-year-old black girl,
the truth of it trembling at my feet.
Somebody should make her stop!
I should be home, watching TV,
blank-eyed behind stale headlines
cold poplcorn on the couch,
a dusty turntable
going round and round and round . . .
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
ali, where did halitosis come from?
a marketing team. can you figure that one out . . . it didn't exist before marketing teams made it up. just another peice of crap they sold to the public, how many other diseases have they invented or at least contributed to the sale of?
better to listen to mom and wash your mouth out with soap for the lies you tell mr. marketer than scope
and on that note, a poem for the marketing team:
and the river shall open for the righteous, someday!
Our father,
our capitalist FATHER,
lead us not into temptation
lead us not,
you have lead us so far
from the truth
our FATHER
our PROVIDER
our Da-do-do-da
i thought that meant love
i bought it
it sounded good
better than
better than
and the sins of the FATHER
and the sins of the FATHER
and the sins of the FATHER
will be visited upon whom?
where?
your children.