Feo

I hope this is revolting
I hope this is annoying
I hope this makes you turn up your nose
Oh reader.
I hope this is befuddled
And confusing and
All about losing
I hope this poem isn't
Rhythmically sound
Nor inspired
Not even slightly profound

This poem is reflecting
This poem is describing
This poem is actually what you see on the news
Oh reader.
This is unfair
And enslaving
Endless line of waiting
And this poem is
The non-fictious reality
Heavy with gravity.
Let that sink in,
Oh reader.

Feo means ugly

I never remember
my dreams
but three nights ago
I dreamt a
disturbing
dream
about a car accident.
In my dream
I watched a
bride and her groom
get plowed
over by a
runaway truck.
(I think it's odd
that I want a truck
so bad.
Don't you think
that's odd?)
The mother wailed
blood was on the asphalt
the sirens screamed in my ear
but they didn't arrive
in time.
I just watched
the gore.
Just stared while
their hearts
stopped beating
and air
stopped flowing
through the places
it should flow.

Then I woke up and
have been disturbed
by my dream
ever since.

I dreamt that dream
three night ago.

"--you know, I've either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
way
but now
I've sold my house, I've found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I'm going to have a place and
the time to
create."
no baby, if you're going to create
you're going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you're going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you're on
welfare,
you're going to create with part of your mind and your
body blown
away,
you're going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you're going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquakes, bombardment,
flood and fire.
baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don't create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.

Alkaline life
Is the way I survive
On the opposite side
Of acid
And passion
And cyanide.

Stay numb
And untouched
Because to
Confront
Would disrupt

My carefully
Fastened and
Self-chasten'd
Masking

Which I use
To Basic-ally
Bleed

Look, dude.
I'm not here for you.
You have dibs,
That's only fair.
You were first,
But let me share.
Don't read mine,
I won't read yours.
None of it mattered
At all, of course.
It won't stick.
Nothing does.
Fleeting interest.
Kind of like us.

The hallways were clogged,
Like a fat man's arteries.