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"squealers" poems
They brought them from the hollar to the barge to the field ~ into the wallows in prayer skinny little pinkers cropped by ivory gates buzzed with hot wire hooked on bug worm whistling dixie around scrummers and **** pen peckers squawk down eden lane (nipping at jean lint and fraystring) deep in the hollows a mad crow (with steady tap) the snouts high on grunters and squealers stomping past the feather pack folded fingers on the gatekeeper (an engineer by trade they'd say) pigtails and slack line down the dusty lane a snap of the jawbone and lawn chairs settle (facing north) the bold script and chimes uneasy
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Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 1:11 PM UTC
these pigs have no neurosis
I’m nothing coming through. A ****** a let down. I’m a plan turned mistake. I slipped out into a world to be forgotten in it. Cold, slimy, smelly, and stupid. I’m the putty they use to fill the gaps of history. The time between now and when. A time where something, anything happens. Walk on me, I’m here to move you on. It feels as though we’re nearing the end. Centuries before, fate was branded. In its burned flesh we made our mark. It’s come time to slaughter. But we’ll be the squealers. I’m coming through into nothing. A mother abused by her young. ******* dry and sagged from their greed. Fat, weak, and stupid now from gluttony. Next winter will bring their snuffing. So pull me out. This pink portal. Into somewhere I belong. The nowhere we are right now. The nothing we’re going to be.
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Oct 24, 2021
Oct 24, 2021 at 3:42 AM UTC
Spit Me Out and Cry at Me
From the seas he returns. Our ****** feet, reunited, grind into the same grimy ground He has returned threatened and escorted He is the inescapable praying prey, cornered by im/mortal forces I/we, the I’m mortal, the stunning Gorgon mask with The dummy serpents squirming and lusting to be unearthed, We march to bring justice to love and *** We protrude the fiery blood red tongue at his feet. Take flight, exhale, touch the sun X marks the spot in the center, the bullseye, the end The flesh creates the reality the squealers shriek and unbolt the doors to reveal the contaminated stains of truth
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
Fusion