confrontation

What you don't know
is that it's already written
Early this morning I plunged a sewing needle in my left eye. The ink in the pupil was enough to scribe a quick note on some weathered papyrus.

What you don't know
is that it's already hidden
Folded razor thin and slid into the waiting abyss of my back pocket, where's its only company is a lost Valentine's Day card and empty candy wrappers.

What you don't know
is that it's already burning
This evening I poured gasoline on myself like 8th grade perfume and held a small brown butane lighter to the sole of my left shoe.

I've been slowly suffocating for the past 3 hours.
The flame has finally reached my eyes.
It's melting the framework of my glasses onto the bridge of my nose
It's cutting at the curbs of my eyelids, ebbing and flowing into my sight

I am now a 6 foot combustable Christmas tree
Joan of Arc, tied on like a candy cane
I was born to die a comet.

Vision

I see a girl each night. She carries stones like rainwater, like an offering. Above the stones swim seven goldfish, unyielding to gravity, perched mid-air. Cutting her feet are the broken bones of a fishbowl that isn't now, won't be, and perhaps, never was.

Reflections upon reading the book of Obidiah

Will I be wrath
or an object of
His wrath?

Am I to be lifted to mountains,
or will the earth rise around me,
buried in valleys?

If all the world is a God's sword,
my only question is which end holds my throat
the hilt or the blade.

I am going to be gone for a few days and so i wanted to give you guys some more bad poetry to read while I was absent.

Expect a poem on my return on wednesday. Good mondays and tuesdays to you all.


http://www.coffeeshoptimes.com/badpoet.html

http://www.barbwired.com/barbweb/pomes/badpomes.html

http://www.badpoetry.net/

http://www.everypoet.com/Archive/poetry/t_s_eliot/t_s_eliot_contents.htm

The poem I would have written in 7th grade if I wasn't listening to so much Reba

the celibate moon
holds me by the throat
I wait coughless
suspended over her metal water
over her printless sand

it is not enough to breathe now
my lungs water full
my lips on earth
my skeleton
the glowing grey sarcophagus
of my past

my unbroken past
bending under the pressure
of her immaculate stare.

A poem

amoeba avalanche acrostic accolade apoplexy Appomattox accumulate appropriation approval alibi alkaline aurora ambrosia accompany acrid Allentown Appelby's amplify average ant alliterative acorn ash amplitude afterglow argue aver Antwerp agronomy alligator alley alter altar abdomen anon axe adder asp awl accordion Azerbaijan aggregation.

Motion Blindness

evidental ther are
people
who suffer
otion blindn

they see
world n frame

the sympto ally
stem om some he
injury o roke

I can ly agine
what would be
onl eing th elm
bow


never knowing to what.