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Jaime

Registered

Member
Posts 250

0 posted 2003-07-09 10:46 PM

The days are made of clay
and the geese are hissing in
the black pisspot walkways
When I walk by, waiting for
the punch but I’m glad
that they know better

At least someone knew
better, my red face is leaking
out onto this floor, and they
want to snuff me out like
a cigarette they just sucked
the grit out of

You knows boys, I think you
should make them pay more
as long as its white they will
be willing to fold out their
pockets, as long as its white

And she says, Where are the
Indians? I don’t see them
anywhere (Go buy some post
cards, Nana, you won't find
them here.)

But Pocahontas in a wig
is good at telling lies, an
education spread thin on
blond hair and liquid tan
and cute little moccasins

No, you didn’t do it and you
and you, nor did I - but the
fact remains that some stories
are grounded while others
are sold on the shelves at
the gift shop

(I just need a little space here.)

the faeries creep into my hair at night leaving it in terrible knots

Lexy
Senior Member

since 2003-01-28

Posts 1038
California

1 posted 2003-07-09 11:17 PM

hmm..that was very powerful, and very thought provoking. I enjoyed your style. Its good to see someone unafraid to say what they mean.
~Lex..

Skyfire

Member Elite

since 2000-12-27

Posts 3381
Riding

2 posted 2003-07-10 01:32 AM

You haven't lost your touch

You write about some very interesting truths here; it's about time that they were aired again.

Skyfire owns you - Stinky Twinky

Local Parasite

Member Elite

since 2001-11-05

Posts 2527
Transylconia, Winnipeg

3 posted 2003-07-17 09:00 PM

It really is sad. There's not much to say that I haven't said to you already. I have to say that this is a great poem, however, and that you've written something very important and significant... you ought to be proud.

You're an artist, Jaime...

Parasite

Faith is a fine invention
When gentlemen can see
But microscopes are prudent
In an emergency.
~~~Emily Dickinson

Rise of Truth
Member

since 2003-07-12

Posts 59
Beneath the Fury Sun

4 posted 2003-07-19 04:47 PM

...in a wig and the blonde is bleeding through...
Huh.
I think i may understand where you're coming from. I enjoyed your poem.

"Our child is in your hands
So let's see you smile now
Cause i'm not impressed with your loneliness"
By Zwan

PoetryIsLife

Senior Member

since 2001-10-27

Posts 1763
...in my boxers...

5 posted 2003-07-19 05:02 PM

~Titus

The few. The proud. The Marines.

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