. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Tuesday, December 5, 2017

For Blood

Who gave the wolf a gun
already threatening to tear his howl from my throat
festering in his fur
and hung
the wrong kind of smell on the air
beware the smell
of the gun powder
of the woman's wail
growing like a cock or like cancer
in the hallowed halls of my black lungs
the bullet cutting through courage
through my tossed luggage
through the diatribes of fussy pilgrims on a long voyage
hunting for the heart of anyone
but bound for MY blood
for blood
for blood
for blood
for blood
for blood

and fuck all the soft words
what's done is done.


No comments:

Post a Comment