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| Open Poetry #32 |
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Open Fist |
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The Jackal Member
since 1999-08-13
Posts 426Springfield, Massachusetts U.S.A |
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 |
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| © Copyright 2004 John Dixon - All Rights Reserved | |||
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steavenr Member Elite
since 2003-11-17
Posts 4058 |
"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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