#unwashed
he rises with words in his unwashed mouth,
mouth, is unwashed, tongue tastes dregs, bits
of morsels of his past, some good, some bad,
some tastes of places, of women he has loved,
sweetness of sorrow, dregs of regret, and all a
jumbled, tumbled, intertwined, clinging combo
of nations, his~stories …a mashup of a mashup’s
smashup
he tries to separate them, this admixture, to better
recall, but the sacrificial fire lit, the ember-members
are too burnt, indistinguishable and can’t find the
vive entre les differences…
South of france, tahiti, the one he loved in cities,
Toronto, L.A., and Portland, and the communes
in Asia, but tries harder but it’s no longer possible
to separate the essences and the similarities same,
and a great sadness is what he recovers when runs
his tongue across the roof of his mouth, the roof of
his memory, the roots of his…being…his unbecoming
he rises to a glorious day, where he is can’t be sure,
who he is with, certainly not, the why, but he recovers
some pants and the idea of a fresh start seeps creepy in,
but by the time both legs dressed, his mind’s eye wanders
to a new sunrise and old template of temptations. . .
Jul 28, 2024
Jul 28, 2024 at 7:30 AM UTC
The unwanted the unwashed
Shoved off of life's course
Kicked into the gutter
With the rest of humanity's clutter
Left here to suffer
Against the sorrow there is no buffer
We just lie and languish
In our misery and anguish
If you look you could see
There is enough of us to fill the sea
But people only want happiness and glee
What was created in us, would never let this be
We've been used and abused
So mentally bruised
We where plucked in our prime
When everything in our life rhymed
We where plucked from our vine
But not to be polished and shined
Only to be thrown down
To be stomped on and ground
We lie and ferment
Never to rise to what we where ment
Then like Dr. Frankenstein they are scared of their own creations
When they come to the realization
The monster's that stalk their nights
That invades their dreams when they close their eye's tight
That make them bar their doors and hide out of sight
Are the monsters they have made, ..... And it's only right
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
I crawled up and died
in your throat last week
you only tasted my remains
for three days this time
the burning in your eyes
from unwashed hands
doesn’t bother you anymore
how come you changed the locks
two times over just yesterday
and once more today
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC