Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Poetry machine

Or: I used to be a German


Walking to school in lederhosen

(Sputter spit poop a little)

I hated the stupid space people

Go back to Saturn I'd think

Their Sweaty balls their wring worm

The mild chafe the needle bags

The Swallowing of needlebags

It's so hard to make your own decisions


He loved her poetry

Machine washed

She preferred his poetry

Machine like she touched his vagina

A hairy chest filled with poetry

Machine makers making machines

I squeezed my old body through

another broken day

The beautiful poet R.Y.

machine bard of the future

Blind me with science poetry

Machine me with tautology

The black eye of poetry

Machine may make mistake too

My child has broken the door of my heart

The pig's house is made of poetry

Machine wolf eats the pig without mercy

I run into the oncoming traffic

My chest harried and filled with birds

In this dream the Herpes

has consumed Most of my leg

Whores stare into the shelter

lips burning kisses into my face

Using gel they try to fix their hair

Then it's One last hurrah of poetry

Machine tits in the cougar den

Billie Jean is not my poetry

Machine Mike made it with a little friend of his

It's almost impossible to read German poetry

Machine Der Gedichte

Being dead now all that is left is this poetry.

Machine of no return

1 comment:

jp72 said...

Another great one. I'm getting a little jealous. Wish I could write like this.

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