There are more than 1,800 historical markers in Pennsylvania. Surely they will be able to spare one for the New, First Ever Poet Laureate of Pennsylvania.
Don't go Please My heart is screaming Pleading in agony My brain tells me You want this My heart agrees Wanting you to be happy But I'm selfish All I can think of Is my life Without you How can I stand this? A week not seeing you Brings tears to my eyes How will my soul Bear months of this? Time with friends loses sparkle No watching the door for you No elation the moment You walk in
This appears An endless desert A hole in my life That will only fill With your return How will I breathe Without your smile? My memory fades I try to grasp fragments Video clips of you This dreaded amputation I hear them sharpen the saw No! I cannot take this How can I let you leave? If your presence Brings me to life What does your absence do? This killing blow How can I avoid it? I don't want to be Dead without you
My heart sends up A keeling wail Make this pain stop Heal my soul All I see before me Endless stretch of nights Crying myself to sleep Racked with sobs Empty, lonely Don't go Please
Copyright 2005 Katie Hart. Originally published at Infuze Magazine.
In that house in PA the pretzels and prayers and non-alcoholic beer left a stench of burning rubber. I was a lambchop dummy on the red leather chiropractor's table my neck a drugged prisoner in the breathing neckhole getting footrubs (grease and white hair), eating soap, drinking scotch, masturbating behind the dry cleaning, massaging the loins of the old crippled nun under the rotting sweetmeats of Buddha, Krishna, Christ and the Silent Master, their licenses and medals vibrating on the wall then coming crashing down in punishment cutting up the deaf silence.
I'm making records of all this to toast the doctors, the old men and me.
God, what happened? We all thought things would happen In a certain way. With a boom boom boom Of a nuclear blast And the rice crispie crackle of an unknown fault, San Andreas’ sister. And then it happened, But with no warning No boom boom boom On day came and Oregon and Nevada and Mexico just looked… And it was gone. Gone? “Goddammit, it didn’t just sprout legs and walk away!” Well what if I told you it did?
what crazed eyes have already seen the end of things wet green eyed forest, the blood of birth and death and the ever present possibility of dying alone and in these last hours the rite of passage dancing on the edge of oblivion kiss the rain and taste continuity feeling flooding over us like dying
Don't Go
ReplyDeleteDon't go
Please
My heart is screaming
Pleading in agony
My brain tells me
You want this
My heart agrees
Wanting you to be happy
But I'm selfish
All I can think of
Is my life
Without you
How can I stand this?
A week not seeing you
Brings tears to my eyes
How will my soul
Bear months of this?
Time with friends loses sparkle
No watching the door for you
No elation the moment
You walk in
This appears
An endless desert
A hole in my life
That will only fill
With your return
How will I breathe
Without your smile?
My memory fades
I try to grasp fragments
Video clips of you
This dreaded amputation
I hear them sharpen the saw
No!
I cannot take this
How can I let you leave?
If your presence
Brings me to life
What does your absence do?
This killing blow
How can I avoid it?
I don't want to be
Dead without you
My heart sends up
A keeling wail
Make this pain stop
Heal my soul
All I see before me
Endless stretch of nights
Crying myself to sleep
Racked with sobs
Empty, lonely
Don't go
Please
Copyright 2005 Katie Hart.
Originally published at Infuze Magazine.
Young Love=Dead Duck:
ReplyDeleteIn that house in PA
the pretzels and prayers
and non-alcoholic beer
left a stench of burning rubber.
I was a lambchop dummy
on the red leather chiropractor's table
my neck a drugged prisoner
in the breathing neckhole
getting footrubs (grease and white hair),
eating soap, drinking scotch,
masturbating behind the dry cleaning,
massaging the loins of the old crippled nun
under the rotting sweetmeats
of Buddha, Krishna, Christ
and the Silent Master,
their licenses and medals vibrating on the wall
then coming crashing down in punishment
cutting up the deaf silence.
I'm making records
of all this
to toast the doctors,
the old men
and me.
California, Part 1
ReplyDeleteGod, what happened?
We all thought things would happen
In a certain way.
With a boom boom boom
Of a nuclear blast
And the rice crispie crackle of an unknown fault,
San Andreas’ sister.
And then it happened,
But with no warning
No boom boom boom
On day came and Oregon and Nevada and Mexico just looked…
And it was gone.
Gone?
“Goddammit, it didn’t just sprout legs and walk away!”
Well what if I told you it did?
CinnamonGhoul
j_gulbranson@Hotmail.com
what crazed eyes have already seen
ReplyDeletethe end of things
wet green eyed forest,
the blood of birth and death
and the ever present possibility of dying alone
and in these last hours
the rite of passage
dancing on the edge of oblivion
kiss the rain and taste continuity
feeling flooding over us like dying
adam struble
lysergicadam@hotmail.com