revenge used to be my drink of choice
that with megashots of "I'll show them"
but those turn bitter sour your stomach
make you barf face down in toilet stink
I used to run off over-cooked hate souffle
burnt crust overflowing blackbiting harsh
raw runny insides of unbeaten egg vomit
it will kill you but you chock it all down
to show them only to find out they aren't
looking your way anymore and haven't
for some time and don't care if you die
trying to make them notice your murder
now I drink ink and regurgitate poetry
writing feelings to erase eradicate them
bringing pain to the surface to squeeze
and pop like white proud zits satisfying
sleep deep undisturbed
in a room with curtains billowing
spring breezes smelling of new mown hay
birds in the distance punctuating the silence
dreams of people and times passed
my mother comes to check I've not kicked off
the covers of my grandmother's hand stitched quilt
my father bends to give my forehead a quick kiss
then lovers come in dreams
and we roll and pant so slick with sweat so sweet
one after another without a hint of guilt or tension
not a word just touch on fire cooled then lit again
sleep deep refreshing restoring my soul
in a room that passes from day to dawn without me
free from hurt harm evil pain distress aguish torment sorrow
cocooned warm tucked in fabricated wishes made memories
I hesitate to give loving a seventeenth try
accustomed to the smell of my own farts
without regret shame embarrassment rue
grown to not considering me & you
just me although drowning in despair
waters gloomy familiar I've learned to
survive without oxygen so deep down
among the octopus squid starfish crab
slow to move & prey lively well active
I too find I can more than exist without
your hot air filled bubbles of love & lust
inhaling just black ink & pithy flatulence
there are people who wallow
in the energy field of people
strangers colleagues sexmates
they don't know
they simply enjoy soaking up
prattle jabber babbling brook
conversation laughter splash
them glowing
in finery hoping to be noticed
admired applauded better yet
talked about into others night
there are people who demand
other stimulation
then there are those who recoil
from the commotion flinching
shrinking cowering wincing up
from the thought
for those other people are hell
When death surrounded me with its heavy white veil of melting ice, I wonder if this is all there is or will be.
It's hard to recall, much less believe, that life will come again and green my soul with new life. So deep into dying, I go always spiraling down into darkness so far I can't see my hand in front of my face.
And then it comes, as it has every year of my too long life. Just when I decided to call it quits, a crocus of all things springs out of my filthy piled up life.
I remember Pacov
there is war
a mortar embed itself
in our house unexploded
earth seeps blood
ground screams in fear
so many have fallen
running for their lives
without success
cows mooing
time for milking
udder full dangling
water from the well
deep and cold
bread baking
warm slices slathered
fresh lard thick chewy
another bomb blast
gone for good
I've been rethinking
the beauty of living
in self-induced
abuse torment
cutting my inner self
just to watch me bleed
sure there is satisfaction
in the ability to inflict
powerful thoughts
that bend you over
aching gnawing throbbing
palms dripping bleeding heart
there must be more than wallowing
in what's gone for good
gone for good
might become
a new anthem
you are gone from my life for good