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Poetry (He Says)

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Topic: Poetry (He Says)
Posted By: Textbook
Subject: Poetry (He Says)
Date Posted: October 21 2010 at 06:14

And Furthermore

And so begins my third and final phase

There are too many kinds of peanut butter to choose from
And online, all these personal ads
Should I write to the white woman or the black transsexual
Perhaps both
They'd never know
I'd better cover my bases or
I
might
miss
out

Welcome to the age of rigidly enforced freedom

I'm surrounded
intimidatingly
by opportunities to try new and exciting things that will destroy me
Well at least knock me off course
I spend my days not doing things
I am repressed you say
I am self-controlled I say
Though self-controlled is still controlled

Standing at the top of a landing in a shopping mall
Facing the escalator, where the twin black bands are close together
The two middles ones, one from the up path, one from the down path
They're working in concert, both working upwards
Wait and watch a while.
A crouching figure rides up, a foot on either band.
This fellow is not dead and has messy hair and likes to walk up subway walls and drop from ceilings.
Sometimes he hangs from pipes and cables with his arms and swears to never let his feet touch the ground again
He moves something like a spider and adheres to all he desires to
He shows a lot of teeth and has no eyelids

The other day I was the subject of a photo shoot
I was repeatedly asked to be "actively casual"

I'm asked about cloning
Well let's see
Clones would be beings bred to fill in wants and needs in society and others at the cost of personal will
Sound familiar?

Siamese twins

Siamese twins

Siamese twins
And eyes on pins

Some people have naturally inexpressive faces
They cause a lot of trouble
Your partner thinks you're not into sex for instance
BE MORE LIKE THE PORN!
MORE LIKE THE PORN!
MORE LIKE THE PORN!

In the corner the man from earlier sits
His back propped by where the walls meet
Rictus grin
Paint recently drunk dribbling down his chin

I know what it is I find distasteful about the crowd of party-goers and pill-poppers
There is no trace of children in them
Their notions of vulnerability and hope discarded because they make shopping difficult
And no sign of their ever having offspring

Total automaton

Imagine having carbonated blood
Sugar sick sweat slick stick on your skin
Cola flow from throat for bile
Bubbling perspiration sliding down your forehead
Dispense the needed cooling ice
Into your cup holding hands



Replies:
Posted By: harmonium.ro
Date Posted: October 21 2010 at 06:26
There's a poetry thread already Wink


Posted By: The Sleepwalker
Date Posted: October 21 2010 at 06:37
Somebody told me poetry is not just for fun. 

-------------


Posted By: harmonium.ro
Date Posted: October 21 2010 at 06:38
^ I agree :P


Posted By: Vompatti
Date Posted: October 21 2010 at 06:38
^ That was me, k.



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