Thursday, February 16, 2006

Justin's Howl (until he gives me another name for his poem)

(One of my students)

School school school. Work work work. Time ticks by.
So many people left to open up this soul
So many people have something to sigh.
Wrapped around a pogo stick making revolutions
in an up and down manner until nauseous we
crave and consume molesting the babies and
eating ideals like pez dispensers handing out
condoms but people don't stop fucking everything
up for the little guy cause big guys own 72.3% of
this planet is degenerating and crumbling:buildings
like skyscrapers full of lives:dying and asking
ourselves how they could jump:down the rabbit
hole to the warm place that embraces:fears not
feared not warranted instinct of juxtapose
doppleganger:twins sin just as much as the other:
opposite value misinterpreted hate crimes cram
straight into skull one knife: lobotomy extraction
of what's needed garbage piling up like dead babies
asphyxiating blue heaping into mounds of innocent
rotting flesh but still edible: pitchforks loading
dead ideas and visions corrupting, oh woe is me
for all this weak weak pity throw a party: tea time
will be at precisely tea-thirty and beers at noon:
sun high over moon, squinting eyes fit them both
in same picture until reality of nature absorbs
another god damned tried to figure it out soul.


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