blister, tall grass blades at war! and boycott tomorrows and days-to-comes!

walden freemanwalden freeman Posts: 511
edited November 2008 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
snipers on the sun spotted,
from each hole in every wall
a fist emerges
reanimates the corpses
of childhood
cartoon superheroes
welcomed into towns
united by unity!
we've ruined the ruins
paved the wastelands pure again!
the recordplayers of tomorrow
are not playing but working
oh no! it's a disaster?
category five
new york and new orleans
have gotten old at our tables
in our homes
color televisions are blurring
reality that even realtors
are ending up homeless
but still smiling
only lately have we stopped
simply posing questions
for pictures
taken like the sun
can only partly take solace
the rest is reserved
for our cardcastles collapsing
like our lungs
grasping for straws
we've snorkled deeper seas
and come up dry
spouting the most polite contradictions
and consistent oxymorons
i want to be remembered for saying nothing
the orchestra, conducted
all the electricity out of our scene
our movie is made for tv
freedom is our religion
i am free of religion
car alarm harmonies
guide my sleep and sudden
abdominal work-out wake up
sweaty and grasping
for soft, solid reassurance
i took a walk outside
scoffed at the decaying-tooth
january front lawns
shortly after the new year
i realized you could have a home
and be poor too
so i took off
my seatbelt did as my knees often do:
buckled when i needed it the most
a slingshot in reverse, backwards
i promised myself to better myself
admitted defeat
was wrong, moved on steering
through the winter's perfume
chipped chimneys coughing stutters
of smoke, january almost glistening
set against skeletal backdrops
and tattered flags
the land of the fleeing
the home of the grave
is shaped like us shifting
sand sifting through
visions strangely are only heard about
the apparitions are apparent;
my dad's
dead war heroes repeating down halls
his eyes wide dreaming
of engines steaming
bringing sealed love letters
to bitter rivals
dying wishes intercepted
by aging naval vessels
bursting bleeding rust
and oilspilling our trust
our tree's branching
bones crack in the fire
we wore our scars on the outside
back then
and proudly
bloodied our blankets
of mud
over the years
the same stories
we held onto our drinks
more tightly than we held
onto each other
we heaped the blame
walked painted up
mountains of walls
in prefabricated rooms
tiles whistling
in unison with teapots
and listen closely!
the pots have accused the kettles
of horrific acts?
like the compassionate conservatives
and limosine liberals in steel-wool sweaters
before them preached
winter colors swinging in cold breezes
a chorus of wasps is yet to be born
the winter is addicted to something
as evidenced by its refusal
to let the needles go
be eaten in herbivor heaven
for mercy
here i am begging
the question
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • *****
    so i took off
    my seatbelt
    did as my knees often do:
    buckled when i needed it the most
    *****

    Can we please get an edit function?
Sign In or Register to comment.