Isn’t this Poetry?
The sound men
The sound men
The sound, sound men
make with their dry lips
around the rim of empty bottles,
speaking their foul breath into the glaringly empty amber pit
(that little whimper of the strong man, who can’t lift himself from the bottle)
the sound
the sound
the unsound sound that bleeding bears make in the falling woods when caught in jagged men-traps
you study the poet
in their natural habitat
(I’d wager it’s hell, really
I’ve $50 that it is)
the world is a zoo
I won another $50
for whoring my soul around
I took off my skin
and threw it off the stage
if that’s not funny, nothing is
Poetry is like dying
I want to stop but I really can’t help it
I had a thought
or a dream maybe
that I flew to Victoria
with wings of rot
and crucified myself
near sandridge lookout
and you laughed
and I laughed
and that’s how I’m doing
I guess
I don’t want to be anymore
I don’t want poetry
I don’t know how to want it
God doesn’t believe in me anymore
My soul is rotting again
Just like before, sweet children
Now you have me again
And you can love me
You can have these rough eyes
have my broken mind
take my hungry heart
be a friend to me
watch me fucking die
tell me I’m pretty
I can say I dreamed of you
I was eating my fingers
You didn’t see the poems in me
the didn’t see them spew out
you turned your head
and went to kill God
And I gave you my all
the applause sounded like Frost
my cheers like Poe
Then I turned to dust
and the girl walked over me
kicking me up to the wind
walking in her actual smile
writing something I could never
You’ll only love me if I hate myself
So, clap, you lot
clap until your hands are like mine
live until you’re dead like me
die until you’re alive
tell them all I’ve returned
thrice the ghost I was before
the glass is half dead
pour me around, darlings
around your blistering eyes
I’ll make you see it all like I do
I’ll pull you down into my grave
I’ll make you cold like me
I’ll keep you warm
because we can be friends again
now that I’m falling apart
Now that I’m dead , and dead , and dead again
(Whoever it is
that is
dreaming of me,
please wake up soon.
I can’t breathe anymore.)
I had a dream you told me that you learned something from me
and I felt equal parts overwhelming pride
and gut wrenching disgust
I only want to know you love me
So I can call you a liar
I suppose I’m sicker than we all thought
Don’t tell my doctor
I’ve been skipping days
I don’t have the money to get right
I don’t have the right to get money
If heaven exists,
something like me
shouldn’t ever be there
Isn’t this poetry?
Aren’t we having a good time?
Well…..
Laugh already.
_Oh! _
_ Loosen up! _
_ It’s only poetry! _
__
_Die a little! _