they rip me,
and I love it
they cut me open
in batches and bunches,
tumbling into me
staccato rapid machine gun fire
this crew, my friends,
they don't read my stuff,
and say very nice, natty,
and move-along-little-doggie
nah, they pick me up
kick three, four, five
poems back at a time -
eat me, drink me, in batches and bunches,
then pick me apart,
then kick me out,
spit the pits on the floor
the way it's supposed to be done
poems - rip n' write them
in batches and bunches,
bitches torn from my breast,
fight me every step of the day,
"Is that all ya got"
"yes'" I answer,
"fuck you,
that is indeed, all I got -
not!"
take a rag and wipe off the amniotic fluid,
throw 'em up against the wall,
and let them stick and maybe
they'll stain your DNA,
and your fancy wallpaper,
well and proper
That is how I want to be read,
my body, my head
all at once, not a droplet
here and there,
but a
rip tide
where we drown in each other,
side by side
That is how I will read you
will rip you and replace
in that empty cavity
that was created
when I ripped myself open
with what I rip from you.
I won't repost you.
but,
consider yourself posted.