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Past the deep Gotham of my eyes --
     The authority of my headache reads
     The graffiti of the prophets -- scribbled
     On the back walls of the train-station:
          
           Commute, work, commute, eat,
           Commute, work, commute, sleep;
           Work  Buy  Die
           And Say AYE-AYE, Sir.

     How many Dear Mr. Heartbreak letters
     Have been etched here -- (I cannot say how many) --
     Deep in the Gotham of my eyes --
     Cold as a city empty of alleys --

     Maybe I'll please the philistines,
     With much talk of good money. I'll study
     Their scriptures about the nonsense of art.
     At last I'll make good --

     I'll finally make them happy.
     I'll try a new part in my hair.
     Maybe I'll put down this pen; stop these letters.
     From now on, I'll express myself in tears.
for the sey-hey man

word bird droppings
scattershot sent
disguised neath flora,
a name by any other,
sally sent forth,
never looked back upon

untenable pursuit
GMO words planted in an
untended garden,
man-made wild sent seeds

purée of amputated lesions,
a divorcées convention,
bon mote note comparison,
freely shared, plagiarized,
by-product of a man's waste,
bidding adieu,
but never
au revoir

*let them spawn
more and others,
will love them
better just for knowing
even never
seeing them again,
still and always,
whatever wherever
they ride~write on,
still and always,
I'm in them,
unflinchingly personal,
even if signed by
another's name...
I write here under many names, freeing me of the burden of counting my words
 Dec 2014 Josiah Wilson
Joe Cole
I WARNED you
YES I warned you of the horror that was to come
But you didn't listen and the invasion has begun
From cracks and crevices in the ground
From dark caverns in the hills
ESIOTROT emerged to devour and to ****

Granny woke this morning
Cried out in great despair
Her carefully tended rose beds
GONE
No longer there

They ate the leaves
The bushes and trees
And even devoured a hive of bees
Nothing could survive

They swallowed frogs
Then the cats and dogs
Took piglets from the stye
Gathered by the bakery
Devoured all the apple pies

Why did you not listen, take no note
When I warned of things to come
You said you knew best
I was being a pest
When I said ESIOTROT would come

I looked outside, to my surprise
The tyres from my car had gone
For nothing is safe
No hiding place
When the invaders come

Now if you don't believe in ESIOTROT
Then take a mirror in your hand
ESIOTROT will be revealed
When you turn the word around
 Dec 2014 Josiah Wilson
Beck
Consume
 Dec 2014 Josiah Wilson
Beck
Can I ask you a question?
one of life,
or maybe living?
one that no one has answered
that is unforgiving--
why is poetry so ugly?
and deep?
and complex?

Why can't it be simple?
and happy?
about wildflowers
and running through them?
and stroking the mane of horses
who smile and dance?
when a pretty girl appears
with tulip scented perfume?
and a boy who's madly in love with her green eyes

can he pick her up by her waist and hold her close?
and whisper serendipity under her twisted brown locks
into her small, un-pierced ears?

no. he can't just be happy. he can't.
why?

because humans are a deep, suffering race
we are complex
no day can simply just be "good"
we won't allow it
rather,
we want to hear about the pain of others
death-sufffering-sorrow-sin-***
that is want we want to hear
and by doing so we create a life of our own suffering
death
sorrow
sin
***.

don't ask why we suffer
we want it
and we want others to, as well
but in our destruction
we find comfort
and manage to live another day
anew, fresh with hope for what is to come
we still manage to believe
that
the darkness of the moon will not consume
the sun's bright eyes
This is perhaps one of my favorite writings. It is longer because it attempts to challenge humanity to explain the reasoning behind their suffering-- why instead of attempting to alleviate the pain by writing of happy things, we instead, drown ourself in our sorrows. I hope you enjoy!
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