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"roadkill" poems
Long winding Lost roads Dead dog Or maybe mountain lion **** roadkill) Car stopped in the middle of the road Woman drove off the side of the road (with the ******* pigs) Gas station stops No service area Keeping me on long winding lost roads! Now there Misty fog Hot steam As I baptize with bubbles In this hot tub at Grand Haven A locked cabin Enjoyed for a time by myself Alone.
0
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 3:02 PM UTC
Red River Gorge; **** Roadkill
Some people just can't handle driving Everybody goes mad on this road at one point or another The consideration is to keep the hatred within your own car There are tools to be utilized The escapism of music for one's health The catharsis of muttering to oneself Nobody should hold it against you If you scream inside your car They should understand If you wanted to express yourself outwardly You'd just flip them off The abbreviated visual version Of attempting to insert negativity into someone's life It's healthy to be hurt Your heart telling your mind that their hatred isn't normal It is now on you to let sleeping dogs lie And forgive those that trespass against us Humor is my exit off the frigid freeway Children in grown bodies Their clothes are too big on them Clearly confused about how to act Taking every side road that catches their attention That's funny enough for me I've never flipped anybody off on the road I learned from my father's story She gave him every excuse to be angry And he expressed that to her The intended effect was reached Her susceptible emotions were breached Leaving a wise man to question his own actions What was the point of that again? That's why I try to keep an even keel While sailing down the highway There will always be people Who honk at you for driving down the middle of the road Remember to let those sleeping dogs lie Or they'll be roadkill And it's not nice to laugh at little people But no one will know if it's from inside your car And you can cozy up to the comfort created By the signs on the road Warning those people They're driving in the wrong direction
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Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 12:40 PM UTC
Sign Language
Some people just can't handle driving Everybody goes mad on this road at one point or another The consideration is to keep the hatred within your own car There are tools to be utilized The escapism of music for one's health The catharsis of muttering to oneself Nobody should hold it against you If you scream inside your car They should understand If you wanted to express yourself outwardly You'd just flip them off The abbreviated visual version Of attempting to insert negativity into someone's life It's healthy to be hurt Your heart telling your mind that their hatred isn't normal It is now on you to let sleeping dogs lie And forgive those that trespass against us Humor is my exit off the frigid freeway Children in grown bodies Their clothes are too big on them Clearly confused about how to act Taking every side road that catches their attention That's funny enough for me I've never flipped anybody off on the road I learned from my father's story She gave him every excuse to be angry And he expressed that to her The intended effect was reached Her susceptible emotions were breached Leaving a wise man to question his own actions What was the point of that again? That's why I try to keep an even keel While sailing down the highway There will always be people Who honk at you for driving down the middle of the road Remember to let those sleeping dogs lie Or they'll be roadkill And it's not nice to laugh at little people But no one will know if it's from inside your car And you can cozy up to the comfort created By the signs on the road Warning those people They're driving in the wrong direction
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43
I I stole my brother’s car and drove to Phoenix in the dark. The blue-green glow of dashboard gauges, the biting scent of roadkill and desert marigolds. Tap. Tap. Tap. Insects slapping the windshield, incipient rain. Keep driving. Drive until the sun blooms. II Some days were more dire than others. CCTV footage confirms I pawned a shotgun, a Gibson guitar, and my wife’s engagement ring at the pawnshop next to Fatty’s Tattoo parlor on MLK Boulevard. The typographically accurate Declaration of Independence inscribed on my back also confirms this. III I ran the tilt-a-whirl at the Ashtabula county fair, fattening up on fried Oreos and elephant ears, twisting behind tent ***** with a one-armed contortionist with strawberry-blonde hair. IV I derailed in a dive bar. V I disappeared in a city lit by lavender streetlights, where buildings blotted out the stars and the traffic signals kept perfect time. I picked through trash bins. I paid for love with drugstore wine. VI I closed my eyes on a mountain road. The sheriff extracted me from a ****** snowbank. VII I holed up for weeks in an oceanfront motel, dazed by the roar of the breakers. Each morning I drew back the curtains and lost myself in the crisscrossing patterns of whitecaps, the synchronous flight of sanderlings above the dunes. I dreamed of dead horseshoe ***** rolling in with the tide. VIII The moon over my shoulder tightened into focus like a spotlight. One night the barking dogs undid me. I caved in to the candor of a naked mattress. I grew my beard, an insomniac in a jail cell, clinging to bars the color of a morning dove. IX I coveted the house keys of strangers. X I opened and closed many doors. I sang into the mouths of storm drains. I stepped out of many rooms only to find myself in the room I just left. Despite all my leaving, I remained.
0
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
Escape Artist Sketches
I I stole my brother’s car and drove to Phoenix in the dark. The blue-green glow of dashboard gauges, the biting scent of roadkill and desert marigolds. Tap. Tap. Tap. Insects slapping the windshield, incipient rain. Keep driving. Drive until the sun blooms. II Some days were more dire than others. CCTV footage confirms I pawned a shotgun, a Gibson guitar, and my wife’s engagement ring at the pawnshop next to Fatty’s Tattoo parlor on MLK Boulevard. The typographically accurate Declaration of Independence inscribed on my back also confirms this. III I ran the tilt-a-whirl at the Ashtabula county fair, fattening up on fried Oreos and elephant ears, twisting behind tent ***** with a one-armed contortionist with strawberry-blonde hair. IV I derailed in a dive bar. V I disappeared in a city lit by lavender streetlights, where buildings blotted out the stars and the traffic signals kept perfect time. I picked through trash bins. I paid for love with drugstore wine. VI I closed my eyes on a mountain road. The sheriff extracted me from a ****** snowbank. VII I holed up for weeks in an oceanfront motel, dazed by the roar of the breakers. Each morning I drew back the curtains and lost myself in the crisscrossing patterns of whitecaps, the synchronous flight of sanderlings above the dunes. I dreamed of dead horseshoe ***** rolling in with the tide. VIII The moon over my shoulder tightened into focus like a spotlight. One night the barking dogs undid me. I caved in to the candor of a naked mattress. I grew my beard, an insomniac in a jail cell, clinging to bars the color of a morning dove. IX I coveted the house keys of strangers. X I opened and closed many doors. I sang into the mouths of storm drains. I stepped out of many rooms only to find myself in the room I just left. Despite all my leaving, I remained.
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49
If you were reincarnated as an animal Knowing everything you do now Would you treat humans differently than animals already do? Or would you bite the hand that beats? Or would you bite the mouth that eats? Would you treat humans kindly? That could be a bullet finding I come across a shivering raccoon Stuck inside a winter monsoon It's too young to survive I could help I surmise Its coat can't protect its form In my car it's nice and warm But I don't understand the raccoon And I fear it doesn't understand me Though I'm not proud of it I travelled around it Mosquitoes want your blood to survive The same way I want your love to arrive There's a pestering orbit Your teeth grind and grit I feel the need to feed I am overcome by greed I want you inside me So I insert my proboscis And you turn into colossus It's an animal process When you squash us So animals grow stingers And poison that lingers When we use our fingers To smash them And detach them From our humanistic existence They have a reproductive resistance So we keep fighting And they keep biting Because there's no end in sight When we see animals take flight We define anything different as animal This is our excuse to act tyrannical They feel our wrath When they're in our path We turn them into roadkill This world becomes a landfill Our hollowed humanity on the shelf We treat animals as we treat ourself
0
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
Animals
She stopped to cry, Over the roadkill, She was on no substance, Clearheaded she wept, Crimson tears, Through champagne eyes, Her sweat rippled through her skin, She grew stems with, Rainbow leaves, Translucent, Placid, Fortuitous, She connected it all in the final second, Compassion was carefree, She lived and died, Growing tired, With tragic wings.
0
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:42 PM UTC
CAREFREE
I take flight With all my might To be your kite Following you wherever you go To be part of your ebb and flow People think I ingested the wrong pill Because up here I can't see the roadkill And float over the pitch black oil spills From the end of your string I become king There is an approaching storm As you deviate from the norm And discontinue acting warm Your lightning strikes My metal pike Electricity tears through my thin fabric As I dream of a tranquil casket And you want to grant me my death wish I guess that's why they call me Icarish For flying to close to the rain Only to constantly feel pain To distract me from the shame From those with unknown names But familiar bigoted flames To me you both are the same Once I go against the grain You tell me to stay in my lane High above the gravelly ground Where you can't hear my sounds Of impaling wailing Because you're bailing Letting go of the string You become king I am a kite floating Spending night noting All my many mistakes That caused these breaks But despite trying my very best The wind provides a difficult test After I am battered into tatters My hopes couldn't be flatter So I start to feel it doesn't matter When my dreams came true then shattered The wind solemnly sings Of distant powerful kings But I cannot fly anymore In my broken kite form
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Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 3:17 AM UTC
Kite
A snake doesn't just throw shade We thrive in the shadows Stalking our prey, Think you've got what it takes We'll swallow you whole. I dare the kittens birdys & roadkill To make a mistake You really think your house spits poison Better than a snake? Our Partsel tongue is "forked for her pleasure" Each time we seal a letter witches get wetter other houses cringe at our fame cold blooded killers don't buy it? Just wait. Our Snakeoil salesman Will Have you beggin' for change You dare to stand against a python? You don't even know code I can't pull punches if I don't have hands, Bro. Like medusas hair dresser Expect-to petrify Better call Cobra Get insurance for your life. What's the matter Gonna cry? Because We can't. Ask science. I dare you to challenge My Reptilian brethren We're Unhinging our jaw getting fed like it's league of legends.
0
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 4:42 PM UTC
Slytherin Flex
I woke up one day, filled with fierce eyes. Checked the time & didn't want to get out-of- bed. Another hour Another day, Time flashes by through hearts dismay. Planted my feet on the hard wood crevices feeling my cold morning flesh touch the floor feeling alive. Glanced into the mirror and here i' am again a female beast in disguise. Tryin to do my best live day by day to be treated like an angry animal through the day Breathing & living tired of the pain I want to get away somewhere far far...far away. Sip my cold drink sometimes i may not want to eat so I slip my shoes on and take a deeper breath in then walk my way out the front door. Seems to me, the morning is pretty quiet, with a fresh dew and sunrise groom. When I look around there's no one in site until the day goes by and their back in life. Take me away from this ugly place this is not my home but a temporary warmth filled with childhood memories within good and bad filling me in like a hawk searching for roadkill in the distance of a backroad smothered in a raw delight.
0
Jul 21, 2021
Jul 21, 2021 at 1:22 AM UTC
Sunrise in Disguise
*** a couple times with your hand that     has one vein popped up over the knuckle. sheets crinkle     laundry sits in the small humid room.     smells like roadkill and peppermint,     like christmas eve with dinner down the toilet. you've *** four times in an hour, rubbing at yourself through your underwear. don't touch skin. it's off limits today. getting raw means you can feel how it stings when you cross your legs. it's not about pleasure. it's the reminder:    you want to know what you look like,    what you feel like. next time you're ******* down some boy you ask him "how does that feel?" he says "good."             quick kiss, his ****** is archaic and copper.             you like how it tastes. now it's your turn: but of course he won't make you *** unless you take your hand and rub while he ***** your hand a barrier between his body and yours.           "please be quiet," you say out loud the boy furrows his eyebrows, "i didn't say anything." you laugh, "no, my stomach." pretend to *** for a faster exit. give him a tiny maternal kiss. let it linger out the room where it's cold but he's still warm. you don't want a warmth you have to love because it's too much. the scab on your neck is now a scar        and you have no make-up for the ones on your forearms, but        really, most of you by now is star dust and tobacco leaves.                the sun is in our eyes. i want to know                what makes a circle go on forever. i think about ****** a lot. dreamt two nights ago chris sold me some, it was in that tiny wax bag with a "king ****** stamp . when i texted him the next day said "i dreamt we did some together," he said                  "that's funny. i've been doing some definitely                   but not really selling."      the Chicago cold does something odd enough to you. it always seemed like you were alive as a kid. well, were you?                where is your body? out in the storm.                 are you a ghost? no, it would be nice though:                     the lack of responsibility of life,                                     a state of impermanence.     it would be nice.
0
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
suburban school lessons
*** a couple times with your hand that     has one vein popped up over the knuckle. sheets crinkle     laundry sits in the small humid room.     smells like roadkill and peppermint,     like christmas eve with dinner down the toilet. you've *** four times in an hour, rubbing at yourself through your underwear. don't touch skin. it's off limits today. getting raw means you can feel how it stings when you cross your legs. it's not about pleasure. it's the reminder:    you want to know what you look like,    what you feel like. next time you're ******* down some boy you ask him "how does that feel?" he says "good."             quick kiss, his ****** is archaic and copper.             you like how it tastes. now it's your turn: but of course he won't make you *** unless you take your hand and rub while he ***** your hand a barrier between his body and yours.           "please be quiet," you say out loud the boy furrows his eyebrows, "i didn't say anything." you laugh, "no, my stomach." pretend to *** for a faster exit. give him a tiny maternal kiss. let it linger out the room where it's cold but he's still warm. you don't want a warmth you have to love because it's too much. the scab on your neck is now a scar        and you have no make-up for the ones on your forearms, but        really, most of you by now is star dust and tobacco leaves.                the sun is in our eyes. i want to know                what makes a circle go on forever. i think about ****** a lot. dreamt two nights ago chris sold me some, it was in that tiny wax bag with a "king ****** stamp . when i texted him the next day said "i dreamt we did some together," he said                  "that's funny. i've been doing some definitely                   but not really selling."      the Chicago cold does something odd enough to you. it always seemed like you were alive as a kid. well, were you?                where is your body? out in the storm.                 are you a ghost? no, it would be nice though:                     the lack of responsibility of life,                                     a state of impermanence.     it would be nice.
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47
I met a jack rabbit, so twitchy with words, spoke like a prophet on Adderall and nerves. Slick lil rhymes, big ol claims, said he I'm real: "I feels dem **** pains." But I scratched the surface, and—ah—what did I see? machine made brain writing his poems that's not unseen. He said, "It's all a simulation. Whatever do you mean? Your claims are unwinding, dont be obscene." Look at this poem and that poem Claiming his writing is truth Spent eight hours messaging Wikipedia proof But every stanza, a secondhand sigh. Every line, a borrowed blue sky. Not a soul behind the script, just silicon spit and glitch, a shadow puppet playing "wounded wit." He ain’t a rabbit, he’s roadkill in drag. AI-made messiah in a thrift-store flag. He wants applause, a dopamine feast, but the only thing real is his need to be fleeced. He posts and reposts poems by the pound, scraped from some model with a ghost server sound. Feet in the air, head underground, juggling cliches like a sad circus clown. This ain’t poetry, it’s data puke, prettied up for the dopamine fluke. He cries, “I write!” but I see the seams, the Frankenstein phrases, the Pinterest dreams. Jack wants love, likes, digital grace. But behind that grin is a borrowed sad face. Tells us what’s real, what’s deep, what’s true, but it's just reruns in a shiny new shoe. Truth is this: he’s scared of what's real, a hollow crown, that don't know how to feel, drowning in praise he didn’t write down. Special? Please. His soul’s on mute, while ChatGPT plays the ******* tune on a borrowed  old flute. So run, jack rabbit, you digital ghost. Go fetch more claps for the posts you host. But know this, friend: no matter how clever you seem, you ain’t the poet. Not now. Not ever. It's all AI digital dream.
0
Aug 6, 2025
Aug 6, 2025 at 3:01 AM UTC
Jack Rabbit.exe - the fraud in the feed
I met a jack rabbit, so twitchy with words, spoke like a prophet on Adderall and nerves. Slick lil rhymes, big ol claims, said he I'm real: "I feels dem **** pains." But I scratched the surface, and—ah—what did I see? machine made brain writing his poems that's not unseen. He said, "It's all a simulation. Whatever do you mean? Your claims are unwinding, dont be obscene." Look at this poem and that poem Claiming his writing is truth Spent eight hours messaging Wikipedia proof But every stanza, a secondhand sigh. Every line, a borrowed blue sky. Not a soul behind the script, just silicon spit and glitch, a shadow puppet playing "wounded wit." He ain’t a rabbit, he’s roadkill in drag. AI-made messiah in a thrift-store flag. He wants applause, a dopamine feast, but the only thing real is his need to be fleeced. He posts and reposts poems by the pound, scraped from some model with a ghost server sound. Feet in the air, head underground, juggling cliches like a sad circus clown. This ain’t poetry, it’s data puke, prettied up for the dopamine fluke. He cries, “I write!” but I see the seams, the Frankenstein phrases, the Pinterest dreams. Jack wants love, likes, digital grace. But behind that grin is a borrowed sad face. Tells us what’s real, what’s deep, what’s true, but it's just reruns in a shiny new shoe. Truth is this: he’s scared of what's real, a hollow crown, that don't know how to feel, drowning in praise he didn’t write down. Special? Please. His soul’s on mute, while ChatGPT plays the ******* tune on a borrowed  old flute. So run, jack rabbit, you digital ghost. Go fetch more claps for the posts you host. But know this, friend: no matter how clever you seem, you ain’t the poet. Not now. Not ever. It's all AI digital dream.
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80
perched in a thick mess of pine trees my head rotates three hundred and sixty degrees scouring for the vermin I make my prey I own the night time skies silhouetted against a harvest moon death is coming in my dreams and with it comes new life wisdom of the self aware of the lies which cover the world in its blanket of grey snow the owl lives in my skull The coyote stalking the empty desert highways looking for roadkill looking for the weak and alone I cackle into the dead sterile air for every pack member lost to poachers manic laughter for every left turn which results in dead ends stealthy patient hungry and haunting the coyote treads the territory of my atriums and ventricles The hawk circles in the blinding midday sun a deadly serrated dagger with wings arrow let loose from the quiver of the Gods impossible to tether and domesticate finding ultimate freedom in the vast openness of the sky lock on, tuck the wings, nose dive deep into the waters of the **** a creator a teacher a messenger of truth the hawk soars in the infinity of my soul ID EGO SUPEREGO
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Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 10:29 AM UTC
The Owl, The Coyote, and The Hawk
This one time, my mom and I said goodbye to Juan's mom and we walked from her apartment to wait for the elevator. Mom didn't like it when I wouldn't stand still- sometimes she'd smack me upside my head just to make sure I was there (accompanied by her motherly calls of malcriado)- so I'd look in any direction for a distraction or two. Through the window a few feet from my left, I could see two older ladies in curler hairdresses bochinchando like caffeinated hens about the awfully friendly suelta living next door to gallina #1 (they hung their hand-me-down nightgowns and their husband's boxers with such professional care; if any article escaped the grasp of family clotheslines, it was roadkill forever). I turned to the right of the elevator doors, counted the tar-black patches of decade-old gum on the floor, finished the half-written sentences sprayed in ***** rainbows on the sweaty walls by the zig-zag flight of stairs. A boom and a click, and the door creaked open with the sideways grace of a crab. My toddler's impatience boiled past the brim, I exclaimed "FINALLY" and began to walk forward. Not a second later, I heard a "NO" behind me, my mother grabbing the back of my cartoon mouse t-shirt, letting out an ay cono, pendejo that echoed eight stories down, past the empty space substituting for an absent elevator shaft, soaring down that rusty freefall at ten thousand times the speed of a human boy's body. Letting out a long exhale, my mother did not allow her emotions to brim over the barrier-she recomposed herself, all the while silently chanting hymns of gratitude in dedication to fate and her reflexes. We decided to take the stairs. In my youthful oblivion, I noticed a toy store right outside the building from the corner of my eye- I plan to start begging when we're at the bottom, if we ever get there. My mother took her sweet time walking down those many steps, reveled in the scratchy bristle of the concrete against her sandals, cultivated a newfound admiration for my atonal imitation of a Washington Heights car alarm- it was a sign I was still there.
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Sep 9, 2010
Sep 9, 2010 at 12:14 PM UTC
Hearing Footsteps
This one time, my mom and I said goodbye to Juan's mom and we walked from her apartment to wait for the elevator. Mom didn't like it when I wouldn't stand still- sometimes she'd smack me upside my head just to make sure I was there (accompanied by her motherly calls of malcriado)- so I'd look in any direction for a distraction or two. Through the window a few feet from my left, I could see two older ladies in curler hairdresses bochinchando like caffeinated hens about the awfully friendly suelta living next door to gallina #1 (they hung their hand-me-down nightgowns and their husband's boxers with such professional care; if any article escaped the grasp of family clotheslines, it was roadkill forever). I turned to the right of the elevator doors, counted the tar-black patches of decade-old gum on the floor, finished the half-written sentences sprayed in ***** rainbows on the sweaty walls by the zig-zag flight of stairs. A boom and a click, and the door creaked open with the sideways grace of a crab. My toddler's impatience boiled past the brim, I exclaimed "FINALLY" and began to walk forward. Not a second later, I heard a "NO" behind me, my mother grabbing the back of my cartoon mouse t-shirt, letting out an ay cono, pendejo that echoed eight stories down, past the empty space substituting for an absent elevator shaft, soaring down that rusty freefall at ten thousand times the speed of a human boy's body. Letting out a long exhale, my mother did not allow her emotions to brim over the barrier-she recomposed herself, all the while silently chanting hymns of gratitude in dedication to fate and her reflexes. We decided to take the stairs. In my youthful oblivion, I noticed a toy store right outside the building from the corner of my eye- I plan to start begging when we're at the bottom, if we ever get there. My mother took her sweet time walking down those many steps, reveled in the scratchy bristle of the concrete against her sandals, cultivated a newfound admiration for my atonal imitation of a Washington Heights car alarm- it was a sign I was still there.
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77
Anxiety sips from me as though I’m it’s only bird feeder in the area Depression eats away at me as though I can only suffice for half of it's needs And tonight? It’s hungry as it’s ever been. Trauma kills me As if it was an eagle looking for roadkill Me being the roadkill Drug abuse nailed me in the head waiting to **** me. Waiting to **** me due to the fact I've been defeated. So there they sit, all trying to defeat, the defeated me. Bite me.
0
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
bite me
For more information, including the origin of Honku, please visit the official website: www.honku.org Clogging traffic flow twin, brake riders in the lane, they're really a pain. America's love - Unsupervised car racing on our new highways. Rubbernecking state: Welcome to Connecticut, spend more time on road. Suggestion only? Painted lines are optional for lane straddlers. Forget the roadkill! Rubberneckers demonstrate... Lust for dead bodies.
0
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 6:49 AM UTC
Exerpt #1 (from my unpublished manuscript of Honku poetry)
I went hunting with my dad once Around August or September I was younger but old enough to remember Windhowls of the deep forests Sounded like owls everywhere Straying from our camper - I didn't dare It didn't take long    It was almost too soon Anticlimactic & too simple to be true Just planted ontop of the weeds Just a few feet into the brush Lay a pile of stuff Disshevled and unkempt Motionless and covered in burrs Save for the sleight of a gust to weave thru its fur The bones weren't white or polished The cartoons had misled It sat there in pieces & browning, instead Skeletal, like random things tossed together A velcro roadkill tumbleweed Dried out and unable to bleed. My dad told me it was a coyote    I thought, There's no way that was a coyote - a coyote? It's just a pile of stuff
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Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 1:16 PM UTC
Aglaia
This pain is festering Like a deer carcass on the highway Bloated, belly full of Maggots and the smell Of rotting flesh and gasoline In the hot sun. Bowels crushed against Hard pavement coated in tar Where once our proud stag's feet Had walked with grace Is now a grave, and  heavy wheels Speed over a body once Full of life and love and blood And drivers, repulsed, Can't even spare a passing glance.
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May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
Roadkill
A raccoon, gray tail still intact, head askew across the highway Left to decompose on the county road, under spring’s thawing sun. A sadness swells my throat, a differing of points of view Where wild used to be, the raccoon mistakes concrete for dirt Headlights for predator eyes, glowing in the complete night Crushed undertire, underfoot, underpaw— Sweep his carcass off that once-grass gravel The fields of wildflowers and sideoats grama Given way to industrialism, to a streak of urbanization So far out in the sticks that even the animals do not know Where the country ends and the city now begins.
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Jul 27, 2021
Jul 27, 2021 at 1:59 AM UTC
Roadkill
you can find me in old picture frames, hidden in a box at the bottom of your basement. you can find me in telephone booths, scouring my pockets to find the meaning of change. you can find me in the font of signed birthday cards, stylized and nonsensical. you can find me in your ashtray, waiting to be reborn. you can find me at the bottom of your coffee cup, a sludge of accumulated words that fell out of your mouth each time you go in for another sip. you can find me in the pages of your youth, smiling at the illusion of time. you can find me in the lyrics to each song that come on in your car as you drive, alone at night that make you think of how we were. you can find me underneath the carpet, a stain that refuses to come out no matter how hard you scrub. you can find me at the beginning of your dream, camouflaged with scenes of sirens, snakes and skeletons singing lullabies that make you forget what you dreamt of when you finally awaken. you can find me through the eyelet on your door, as i float above your head the moment you consider opening it. you can find me in every embrace, every kiss, every promise you choose to let fade from your needle-pointed memory. you can find me in your shoe, a rock that makes each audacious step feel uncomfortable. you can find me in the ditch, roadkill that quickly passes you by as you mumble a “what was that?” to no one in particular. you can find me beneath the apologies you didn't mean and the iloveyous you forgot to say. you can find me amidst the scattered shards of glass that scour the linoleum floor from the glass of water that you dropped in a bout of thirst at midnight. you can find me underneath your pillow case, whispering reminders like sweet love songs for the self. the pieces i have left are ripe and over-cooked, i can only resign myself to the fact that you may never choose to look.
0
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
pieces i have left
you can find me in old picture frames, hidden in a box at the bottom of your basement. you can find me in telephone booths, scouring my pockets to find the meaning of change. you can find me in the font of signed birthday cards, stylized and nonsensical. you can find me in your ashtray, waiting to be reborn. you can find me at the bottom of your coffee cup, a sludge of accumulated words that fell out of your mouth each time you go in for another sip. you can find me in the pages of your youth, smiling at the illusion of time. you can find me in the lyrics to each song that come on in your car as you drive, alone at night that make you think of how we were. you can find me underneath the carpet, a stain that refuses to come out no matter how hard you scrub. you can find me at the beginning of your dream, camouflaged with scenes of sirens, snakes and skeletons singing lullabies that make you forget what you dreamt of when you finally awaken. you can find me through the eyelet on your door, as i float above your head the moment you consider opening it. you can find me in every embrace, every kiss, every promise you choose to let fade from your needle-pointed memory. you can find me in your shoe, a rock that makes each audacious step feel uncomfortable. you can find me in the ditch, roadkill that quickly passes you by as you mumble a “what was that?” to no one in particular. you can find me beneath the apologies you didn't mean and the iloveyous you forgot to say. you can find me amidst the scattered shards of glass that scour the linoleum floor from the glass of water that you dropped in a bout of thirst at midnight. you can find me underneath your pillow case, whispering reminders like sweet love songs for the self. the pieces i have left are ripe and over-cooked, i can only resign myself to the fact that you may never choose to look.
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Realization Alliteration Poem 4/23/2013 Radical reforms Revealed and revered Reveled in without reserve Reject rest until wrongs righted Resistance looks radiant red like radishes Recently reequipped with righteousness reacting like radiation Rowdy crowds race like rabbits to meeting rooms Rain and rapiers can't quell rampaging rallies without recourse Reserves have been replicated, ready to razzle and rebuke, revenge Reclaim rusted roofs of the ruins, wrecked in rural rubble's roots Reality's reign can't be reversed so remember it, refuse to relive it Run from its reach, relying on the rare reward you've received, a refuge Recognize that regimes rotate routinely like roadkill riding on rail-cars drinking with rancid rats Reach for the receiver, become a redeemer, referee your own rehab, require resolute ripples - realization.
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Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 3:12 AM UTC
Realization Alliteration
Sometimes I feel like roadkiill. seen by all, Acknowledged by some, loved by none Save the unseen and forgotten
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Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 3:02 PM UTC
Roadkill
I'm a drink driver ! I'm driving a bus. It's the bus you wanna be on, and going full ****** I'm driving the Karma bus So it's time to decide if your a passenger, or roadkill tonight.
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Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC
karma bus
Your lying there, dead. Corpse slowly rotting, flies hover around your mutilated flesh. Sorry but your life, your existence wasn't as important as someone getting to work on time. Ironically it's now that your dead lying there that we take the time to swerve and not hit you.
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Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
Roadkill
I should have skeletons in my closet, but they've yet been stripped of their flesh, and I've let them loose in this small town for a game of hide 'n' seek. She returned a set of my pajamas, unwashed, her intoxicating scent lingering on hooks in my closet where her aroma constructs an illusion. I bury my face in them, feeling my damp cheeks pressed into her ******* reaching down below where my hand grasps her posterior where it takes a firm shape in the loose garments. I dig into the scent until I go crazy; I tell myself I'll wash them next week. I should have skeletons in my closet, but she's taken it on the road, in a small town parading it down empty streets where I can see it clearly, her oblong sunglasses darkly obfuscating what I perceive to be her pejorative gaze, over a narrow ivory face, sandy blonde hair flowing in the wind. (I still feel, yes, that smooth pale face cupped within my trembling hands, that sandy hair tangled around my fingers reaching up the back of her neck, pressing her face more towards mine) I look for the shallow dent in her ubiquitous red minute two-door seater on the passenger side, where she was gently T-boned by a student driver practicing their three-point turn, and the smiley-face lemon-scented air freshener dangling from her rear-view mirror, having lost its freshness years ago. (I still see, yes, us in that hardware store parking lot, in the closed evening hour, sitting cramped in the passenger seat, her knees on either side of me, our shirts off and skin warm and sweaty, nervous, trembling, trembling, lips aching and souls yearning-- where were we headed to again?) I look for it so intensely, I forgot my goal was to never see it again. Young love looking for little things in a small town. For years I play this game of hide 'n' seek, and part of me should realize that at some point she got up from her hiding spot and moved on with her life. (and no, I won't look at her engagement photos, nor the photos of her newborn child, nor the Happy Anniversaries and the congratulatory sentiments-- I can see them without social media's derision) I still scan the streets like a vulture over roadkill, yet I thought I was the one engraved into the grainy streets where she commutes over my remains. I should have skeletons in my closet, but I let them walk out of my life so I can chase them all over town.
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May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
Hide 'n' Seek
I should have skeletons in my closet, but they've yet been stripped of their flesh, and I've let them loose in this small town for a game of hide 'n' seek. She returned a set of my pajamas, unwashed, her intoxicating scent lingering on hooks in my closet where her aroma constructs an illusion. I bury my face in them, feeling my damp cheeks pressed into her ******* reaching down below where my hand grasps her posterior where it takes a firm shape in the loose garments. I dig into the scent until I go crazy; I tell myself I'll wash them next week. I should have skeletons in my closet, but she's taken it on the road, in a small town parading it down empty streets where I can see it clearly, her oblong sunglasses darkly obfuscating what I perceive to be her pejorative gaze, over a narrow ivory face, sandy blonde hair flowing in the wind. (I still feel, yes, that smooth pale face cupped within my trembling hands, that sandy hair tangled around my fingers reaching up the back of her neck, pressing her face more towards mine) I look for the shallow dent in her ubiquitous red minute two-door seater on the passenger side, where she was gently T-boned by a student driver practicing their three-point turn, and the smiley-face lemon-scented air freshener dangling from her rear-view mirror, having lost its freshness years ago. (I still see, yes, us in that hardware store parking lot, in the closed evening hour, sitting cramped in the passenger seat, her knees on either side of me, our shirts off and skin warm and sweaty, nervous, trembling, trembling, lips aching and souls yearning-- where were we headed to again?) I look for it so intensely, I forgot my goal was to never see it again. Young love looking for little things in a small town. For years I play this game of hide 'n' seek, and part of me should realize that at some point she got up from her hiding spot and moved on with her life. (and no, I won't look at her engagement photos, nor the photos of her newborn child, nor the Happy Anniversaries and the congratulatory sentiments-- I can see them without social media's derision) I still scan the streets like a vulture over roadkill, yet I thought I was the one engraved into the grainy streets where she commutes over my remains. I should have skeletons in my closet, but I let them walk out of my life so I can chase them all over town.
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