Addiction

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Isn’t it just like a man?
Sitting, watching the swaying hips
each conniving turn.


She slithers
through the blue cigarette smoke.
I do things differently,
doorways for suckers.
I brace for impact,
through layer after layer
clearing out foundation after foundation
taking years to establish
but moments to dissipate.


She pulls at the meat
twirling it between her fingers
throwing it from her talons
into the air
to her tapered beak.

Could we all be monsters
demon lurking in the night
loitering under street light
looking to the painted faces
and the saber tooth heel?

What could I feed her?
What cherished memories sacrificed
for the next high?

 

 

(I do not support; strongly condemn the type of misogyny in this poetry,(though it is a perspective in society that needs to be addressed) she’s intended to be terrible because of what she represents, NOT because she is a woman.)

Trump’s Cars: Compensating for Something

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Belly hollowed out beats

Farting, raging, eating,

Regurgitating

The capitalist consumerist

Steed

Racing

Some fighters, some commuters

Some aerodynamic

Some committing deeds drunkenly

Tragic

Hard turtle shelled

Some sputtering

Muttering

Some screaming

Bellowing out

Hate speech.

Tired Wind

A Mosquito bit me on the ass today
Used the capillary force
To drain all of the reason from man

I am more of a branch now
Waving in the wind
Uprooted and bendable
Skin and bones
Until he sucks out the marrow
And I break
Then just skin.

Paper giants stand
Propped against sticks of ego
And readied fists

Paper soldiers
With a will
As heated as guns,
Ready to make
Their mothers
Their countries
Proud.