Wednesday, March 30, 2011

becoming a spear

whittling away the what is
left on the stick of this life
spending the day dying.

thinking about insects and death
and dying waiting to work out
so I look good so I can be more

famous and fuck hotter and more $
cause this is where the happiness
is hidden in the future world

where I am happy and bugs care
and my dick is bigger and ice cream
won't make your feet disappear

where cancer waits like a hidden
tiger in the grey haired forest
of middle age. a thorn in it's paw.


soozie said...

well . . earlier today was thinking it was time to travel to that place where your words live. thanks for the trip.

IndianaRose said...

Existential crisis happening here? Makes me feel squirmish inside.

Here's one for you.

I sit here now
I sit here later
I will forever sit
Until the end of
Like a tiger never leaves
The jungle
Or how love never leaves the
The heart
Until the sun makes the
Last light
Until the moon has its
Last glance upon the earth
Until the stars make their
Last constellation in the
Deep dark endless sky
I am like a fragile
About to crack
But not quite broken
And when I do
All of my treasure
Will spill out
Like a waterfall
Spills out into a river
It will spill out into a puddle
Filled with lonesome
Thoughts and memory

*written by my daughter, who is 10 years old-she's been inspired by your songwriting in particular (strategic coughing aside). I think it's brilliant. :)

theflowersays said...

insensitive me...break down the door, gag & blindfold the dying (kicking and angry) one - throw him in the car, and head to the beach...hope he can kindof swim and I get a parking spot.

Chicken said...

My poem can still take your poem plus my poem has been studying Aikido, but I wanted to tell you that I love "Let The Light In".