waiting on a doctor in a V.A. Hospital

here, in Atlanta
amongst the cities misery
are the lost, the dysfunctional
those wrinkled and smelly
the young and mindless
those who played drums
in fields of flowers budding
those who've listened to the voices
of promise
those that said: "Follow me."
those always being led too
to wait.
She is here
fixing, thinking, watching
coached too
by conditioning
under wire brush hair
inside those pouting lips and
so dark.
Inside the square
behind the polished sand
her children
show her the way.
Obtusely she asks
"Would you drive, all this way for
narcotics?" This mind tells her
"Can we dispense the professional bigotry?
Can we find a balanced medium
from our past, from this pain?
Can we drive
farther than
all this monotony
this narcotic?
Fix the fuckin' solution."


Drinking Java
Staring into
Asymmetry of
Pallor turning
Relics as
Redolence rises
This mind
This one that prepares
For the crossing
Taking that
Which is needed
And leaving the rest to
Ruin by
... The breath
Spent to wind
Is mixed and is
Unattainable now.
It's all dew
Due to time

(please excuse me)

for my thoughts on God

and Hell

for belching

and farting

for saying that your breasts

are soft

for this pissing

in the wind

while holding my dick just so

-for drinking my way

into odious insanities of

self preservation

excuse me

for my doubting

your timeless persecutions

those judgmental rewards that ream

for me not understanding

your antiquated ways of

conditioned moralistic turpitude

those so hell-bent

on diversifying

my imagination

excuse these artistic renditions

of realism and

my obvious disenchantment

with authority

in this world

the past has created

for saying...

fuck you

as often as there's a need.


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