Archive for August 6th, 2013
My Cup Says Hope, My Ass
I drive in
early the morn,
I be beast
for the man
my cup says hope,
my brain says dope,
the man goes
crush
my screen says,
God
is always present,
fuck,
just kidding,
my screen blares
Hell
in dark forest.
I punch keyboards,
hope all fraud
goes away,
and then I
might write
poetry all day.
Save me
from the others.
I might be
better
if I could
write
poetry all day.
.
Killing My Ideas
My editor, the pernicious devil. He
swims the baby pool with a knife, while
I stay away. I dive into the deepest
end of the big pool. He watches
with no concern. He says, “Carl,
sometime soon, you must bring
your pen or type little simple
things into shiny glass screens.”
I love being lost in the waters,
and though my swimming is rough,
freedom runs batshit crazy through
my veins as I hold my breath, knowing
I’ll survive, feeling strings of love and
words and pictures bubbling in my body, but
his cackles bring me to the surface, “Poem-
A-Day, I’ll cut you deep and wide, and
the people will hate your shit.”
.