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Open Poetry #32
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The Jackal
Member
since 1999-08-13
Posts 426
Springfield, Massachusetts U.S.A

0 posted 2004-05-06 11:01 PM



The mother sucks
and the father swallows
creation never meant so little

lick your lips and drink my blood
and watch it wash right back

its just work
teach us well
expel our thoughts
empty heads  talk to no one

for money,  I’d kill you brother
for a  little space, id make a memory
a quaint taste of  degenerate empathy

as I crawl back  to the womb
it suddenly became a forest
I opened up my fist
and quickly ran out of  room

silence we make
when everyone can hear
attention swallows
we are quick learners
and better listeners

the mother teaches
and the father follows

crashed on the couch
her highness in  flight
behind the ant hill I had my say

former pets and current slaves
the feel of  weapons
without the weight of words


© Copyright 2004 John Dixon - All Rights Reserved
steavenr
Member Elite
since 2003-11-17
Posts 4058

1 posted 2004-06-02 10:05 PM


"for money,  I’d kill you brother
for a  little space, id make a memory
a quaint taste of  degenerate empathy/"

my fear is that I am missing so much of the meaning of this write...it is far deeper than a cursory reading portrays...I especially find your final phrase hauntingly intriguing...

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