Thanksgiving

At a table, silent in prayer,

I stared at the food before me.

Thank you for giving me life,

I said to myself, while the others

whispered to their God.

Giving thanks? Fuck.

My mind is damaged,

My body broken.

My heart belongs to no one.

My soul clutches to my ribs.

At a table, silent in prayer,

I stared at the knife before me.

Cut me free,

I said to myself, while the others

whispered to their God.

Shed me of this skin I wear.

Eating is no longer satisfactory,

Talking is empty, conversations die.

Blindness overtakes me, but

I still see more than before.

Thankful for that?

I feel sympathy for that turkey

For I have been carved

To be fed to the dogs too.

There was no swift death for me

Only eternal imprisonment.

Hell is not other people

You were wrong, Sartre

Hell is being eaten alive

And spit out in disgust

At the Devil’s Thanksgiving.

technorati tags: poetry, amateur, writing, thoughts

Punch

A punch in the gut from a woman

Fucking hurts. The pain is more

Than losing an arm or leg

And is just as permanent.

The shield that protects me

Fails constantly with these women

Allowing them to enter my soul

Chew it up, and spit it out on me.

My heart is too accomodating

Always accepting these bitches

And loving them even after they’re gone.

Forever cursed, I long for a real woman.

A beautiful woman, nondestructive for my heart.

An impossible dream.

technorati tags: poetry, amateur, writing

The Machine

The machine in the mind never slows down

It produces nothing but creates noise

Horrific sounds that bounce around

The hard shell, echoing silently

Dirtying the once clean realm.

Light doesn’t reach the walls of this place,

Darkness rules with faint glimmers

Of faded stars somewhere

Nowhere.

What keeps the machine running so smoothly?

No workers here, of course. No robots either.

Nothing but the bare walls, slick with mud.

The grooves of the machine

Dig deeply, cutting.

It’s painful

But nothing

Slows the machine.

technorati tags: poetry, writing, amateur

Experimentation

Fellow neo-beatniks rise up

out of the shadows

in which you’ve been hiding

now is the time to be loud and

H—O—W—L

into the cold dark nights

and let your voices be heard amongst the masses

like our cool cats of old

this is a plea for

??????????????????

friends poets writers lovers musicians and anyone else

to write to eachother share thoughts and have fun

hook up and be creative

to find a voice for another new vision

of

art

poetry

writing

and music.

Let us join hands and sing