Weak People
Need Saviors
and crutches
To survive
I Need Tenderness
They are MAKING me crazy
Skunk odors in Malibu
Earthly crawling things
Inhibitions
Chop me into bits
A kind touch
cannot stop
This itch
this passion
This lust
To annihilate
The downtrodden
To ignore the urgent signs
Of revolution
A collapsing society
The emergence
Of a new order
This one will perish
Existence as we know
It
Will change
Hurry inch- to
One that moves all
likes and dislikes
Minister to each feeling
that rises
Cautious alienated victims
accused of heinous crimes
Sex visualized
ill
all take notice
certainty is impossible…
Sour notes
do scattered wiping
thief’s horrendous bigots
cut servants
turn lights out
Own the beast
the colony of dead corpses
waking
In purgatory screech
disease reaches past pain
mild summer nights
The smell of tacos
that steal the air
lay calm in execution
morn their future
For the offspring
are the devils punishments
the outcast-
Tidy hysterical laughter
bruising the soul
fasting foul animals
From Torrance
held captive
in the wilderness
forgotten kindred shits
past redeeming
no formula for survival
I nestle on soft sofas
in the middle
of mixed dangerous strangers
a sign
a fuck
a fight
Clinging to serious sweet problems
extremities not yielding to fear
out of a lullaby
carved signatures
Willful
fixated
broke
lonely
In a declining inadequacy
a never sensed offering
to unknown Gods
Late checks
in the descent of grace
aged deep tumors
hymns being sung
in empty canyons of Arizona–
All ends here
there is no other world
utterances
side dimensions
Universes
Foreign
an omen
of washed out survivor’s
pristine elements
in no order–
A still sober accumulation
of cluttered thoughts
singing in us called
beautiful
intended for torture
Organized refugees
rigid escapees
perpetrator’s
sucked into hidden strings
of consciousness
Sterile
artless
pathetic boring
tedious murmurings
All neither loved
or hated
kings
queens
jacks
hanging from chandeliers
in Nightmares
do we know
the scope of solving
saving poetry
saving the world?
Raw damp fertile
wasted indolent
insolent freaks
with blocked arteries
A latent meaning
an ace of weeping creations
mistakes ?
Army Of One
© 2011
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Kick-ass poem Stevie, great one!
I sometimes may seem dark but I think we must own our
darkest thoughts and observations for to say everything i beautiful and have positive thoughts is bot always in touch with your reality.
It too is an attempt at healing.
Sometimes it all feels wrong It feels like it is falling down and oit is healthy to know that for me.
Peace