CRUSHED AGAINST
THE BURNING WALL
OF DREAMS THAT
SPUTTERED INTO STALL
FACTS LIKE RAZORS
CUT ME CLEAN
REALITY IS
FUCKING MEAN
DEAD LIKE DAYS
THAT SCREAM OUT NO
I HAVE NO FUCKING
PLACE TO GO
BUT GO I WILL
TO NOWHERE'S DOOR
A DOOR UNMARKED
TO EVERMORE
FACE TO FACE
WITH TONGUE TO EYES
SLOBBERED TEARS
THAT CRITICIZE
MY EVERY MOVE
MY EVERY WORD
MY EVERY SINGLE THING
I'VE HEARD
BROKEN BACKED
AND CORNERED BOUND
EACH SQUARE RECTANGLED
INTO ROUND
TRIANGLED FEAR
THAT OWNS THE SOUL
IS FUCKING HERE
OUT OF CONTROL
ZIPPERED FACES
GLEAMING SPIT
GNAWING MOMENTS
IN A FIT
WHAT IN GOD'S NAME
CAN I DO
TO GET THE FUCK
AWAY FROM YOU?
Bobby Jameson August 13, 2011
One of the many things that I find interesting in your work, Bobby, is that you often present an idea in many different forms: a prose rant, a symbolic poem, an autobiographical vignette, a resurrected old song with a new video...I like the straightforward exclamation at the end of this one.
ReplyDeleteTim