10/8/12

KA - FREAKIN' - BOOM





we all carry a few pounds of explosives in
our heads -
the sniff dog in wait can't smell it -
the sniper on the roof can't get it in his sights
we carry it though - and we saunter
through their detection blockades -
and we can't be stopped
 
 
some of us think it's simply precious cargo -
like some wedding night sheets rolled into a ball and
protected by skull plates - comparison parties with the
girls from work - love the love you own
or like there's an antidote in there - like
anybody ever gets better without blood on their hands -
that designer placebo was tested on runaways
or even an anectdote that's worth a fuck - like i said ,
then he said - and then we said - we said , and said -
and said .... all day - so we can say it again
 
we're simply wired to go bombastic -
that's the only truth that comes -
and at any point we can take out a city block -
with a flippant split decision
we can't help with the same whim - cause
 
 
we're not designed for joy spread healing humility -
we're about the train wreck onslaught crescendo
we can catpult ourselves into someone else's oblivion
and pull all the pins - cutting them to pieces
but we can't give love - without keeping score
 
the flower you picked for your love fucking died -
but the lie you told is still ticking away -
we punish , we bring hell to , we cut the daisies
 
god , we even rape
 
we're all simply eachother's obstacles -
we will clear the way for our pleasure
 
- daisycutters -
 
kill babies so we can fuck without someone
crying in the other room
mother invalids so we can sing about lovebirds
 
uninterrupted
 
set fire to the homeless so you can own them
forever - keep them locked inside the smirk on
your ugly cannibal face
i saw the scorch marks on the pavement and
the twinkle in your eye
i saw the mutts invade the dumpster outside the clinic -
while you humped like dogs - i heard you say yes 
a thousand times
and i saw your grandmother's make-up smeared all over
the pillow case inside the coffee can -
 
don't sing lovesongs about sparrows to me ... it won't
exonerate you - i'll just show you -
there is DNA everywhere -
that's what we're about -
it's on your bed - your floors - your doorknobs -
it's on your lips , it's on your streets - in your dumpsters
it's even in your coffee cans
 
we leave a trail of what we are -
every step of the way
where are the rose petals
where is the pixie dust
where's the fucking confetti
 
 
only in poetry
 
 

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About Me

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We yearn for some explosive, extraordinary escape from the inescapable and, none forthcoming, we put our faith in an apocalyptic rupture whereby the inevitable is solved by the unbelievable grasshoppers, plagues, composite monsters, angels, blood in industrial quantities, and, in the end, salvation from sin and evil--meaning anxiety, travail, and pain. By defining human suffering in cosmic terms, as part of a cosmic order that contains an issue, catastrophe is dignified, endowed with meaning, and hence made bearable.