Each poem is stained with wine,
sweat, tears and sometimes blood.
I'll write gently of my doomed
loves. We were sincere and naive,
too young to taste death's smell.
Promises were made and abandoned
for lust. My only friend after all.
Never trust broke poets for truth.
The universe is on display tonight.
A storm is coming with the wind and
lightening cracks the sky in two.
There's half for me and half for you.
With my neck in the guillotine
and the mob hungry for blood
my final thought was us naked
and touching each other's there.
The hangman's noose around me
standing on a trap door I thought
of your soft voice comforting me
while I wept in my agony.
Standing tall blindfolded before
a firing squad I thought of you
for comfort. You always believed
in me. I always loved you for it.
A billion people died today when
an orange man said it didn't matter.
Every immigrant is separated from
children and thrown into cages.
All the white men are racist and
sexist and xenophobic and we need
to be exterminated like Jews in death
camps. Then socialism will finally work.
Hate me if you will. I just quit believing ******* fed to the masses as truth.
War requires absolute insanity.
Suspend every decent thing you
learned growing up. You must ****
a man or woman or child. Anonymous
means guiltless. They're the enemy.
***** and carry on. It gets easier.
I'm 12 and in bed for the night
listening to WSAI. Dusty Rhodes
is the DJ playing Rock and Roll
on my crystal radio in my ear.
I'm frozen there forever. I will
never die. I'm 12. I hear the world.
They heft the scull like a tortoise
shell and gently touch it to water.
They hold oars and take places and
wait for commands. Soldiers willing
to die for greater good of the boat.
Row. Poetry comes to life as the light
reflects 8 men rowing as 1. Like poetry
it looks effortless. Smooth and smart
it's a ballet of boys rising against odds
to become men worth rowing crew.
The Boys of 36 Documentary PBS. Row!