I’m the Poet
With my head up my ass
Examining
My colon
My intestines
Reporting to the world
Something
Ain’t quite right in me ville

I need poetry that bleeds
That makes me uncomfortable
That has an edge
That cuts me
If I get too close

Poetry
That grabs me by the throat
And tells me
YOU GONNA DIE MOTHER FUCKER!

Dangerous poetry
Poetry that guts me
That is banned in schools
Poetry you can’t read
In polite company
Poetry that gets me arrested
Sent to prison
That will rape me with broom handles
Flay my skin
Till there there is nothing
But the words

Poetry that rages
Assaults me
Rips the pillow out of my hand
That drags me from under the bed
That tells me
YOU CAN’T HIDE MOTHER FUCKER

Poetry that speaks of love
Not in rhymed couplets
Nor wistful sighs
But shakes the fabric of time
Shatters the foundation of the Earth
Causes the Planets
To break free of their orbit
Stops the heart
With its pain and loss
Poetry that changes me forever
That allows me to finally live
If only for a second

I need poetry
That I can’t read
But only feel
Ink intermingled
With blood
With tears
With shit and piss
With sweat
That vibrates off the page
And becomes the North Star

I need Poetry that bleeds
I need Poetry
That
Fucking
Bleeds

The suggestions to free

Cut and cauterized–

They’ve hurt me.

Have you not heard me pleading

For the release of all that caresses?

His release.

Have you not heard me begging to the presses

All these years?

I’ve done what was asked

Walked across acres upon acres of shards of glass

Passed razors through the maze of my soul

Dissected my heart with a monocle mirror

And I’m whole

I’ve forgiven my fingers

And I’m whole…



But his release–

His release demands of my mind’s eye

His suffering rakes the embers of my need

To sustain my high

Blistered and scarred

Rising to an inferno I can’t disregard

And my fingers beseech thee

As my conscience screeches to me daily

Release him

Just release him so my sight can see

He lives without me

Satisfactorily

Allow me to witness him serene

In the wild

Living out his most desired dream

And he will be filed under case closed.

I’ve done what was asked

I’ve inhaled the rose

And suffered each thorn as it passed

Licked the morning dew from your boots

Uprooted roots I thought would never be free

And rotated eyeballs to view within

The bloody internal massacre of sin and debris…

I guess I just don’t know what you want from me



But you know what I want from you

Oh you’ve always known what I want from you

And you hold it close to your chest

Under lock and key and duress

I could kill myself, leave a simple note of singular pleas

But you still wouldn’t give me what I need–

His release.

For his release is mine



And you’ll never let me go

Blistered and mangled

You’ll never let me go as such…

I’ve seen too much.



©Jen2010 1–31

I was married, which by definition meant I was not getting sex from my significant other. I was required to employ the services of a prostitute. Now some of you might cringe and say: “Disease! Disease!” Never fear, I would do the Oddpoet Babe Check. I would open the door upon hearing the knock and, ”Okay, she has two legs, check”; “let’s see, no visible scabs on her face, good, very good.”; “Honey, roll up your sleeves,” no visible track marks, “Come on in babe!”

My second choice for sex would be a Bar, Women there are usually:
1.Of questionable moral character
2.Drunk
3.Desperate
When I was younger, I would prey upon Women in bars, sure as shit between 12:30 and 2:00 AM a few would either fall off bar stools or their noggin would slam against the bar passed out. I would immediately swoop in like a vulture on carrion.

Well I had fun, they did not remember. This, of course, worked out for both parties. We did not have to do that stupid phone number thing. Ladies we never call.

Alas, since I have no shekels I am forced into the ultimate humiliation: Dating want ads. How far have mighty fallen. What follows are things you do not want to say in your ads:

“Looking for my Knight in shining armor”
First of all I do not shine my shoes let alone armor. Second, I do not have any friggin armor. Please!

“Looking for my soul mate”
Well not sure I have a soul and if I did it would an ethereal, spiritual entity not remotely interested in exchanging precious bodily fluids! That’s a loser girls.

“Looking for Mr. Right”
This is a sure fire way to have your ad passed over. When men see that alarms go off, “Shit! She will want to change me into her “ideal man.” Pretty soon she will have me watching Liza Minnelli movies.” Don’t work Ladies!

What does work? Briefly:

“I swallow”
Top of the list! Of course you run the risk of being considered a slut, but you will never lack male companionship. Like everything in life it’s a trade off.

“I love to drink but I can’t hold my liquor.”
Highly recommended, It has two advantages, first men dig that, second, you can engage in all types of obscene behavior and who can blame you! Shit, if you’re drunk. It’s kind of like a get out of jail free card.

Lastly,
“I am a widow whose husband left a whole lot of money, looking for one night stands.”
Very good one.

Hope this helps; I will be exploring this topic in the future. In the interest of sociological research, of course.

Till Then,
Humbly I remain,
Oddpoet

$16000——–Really Poor Fucks

$12000——–Destitute

$10000——–Totally Fucked

There!



Everything in life is a continuum and we as a society need to address the degrees of poverty, I submit:



“Jim, how’s it going man?”

“Not good Oddpoet I am a poor fuck.”

“Stop crying man, I am totally fucked.”

See…big difference.



The problem with the typical American’s view of poverty is: IT’S THEIR FAULT! You know it’s true, never try to bullshit the Quas. It is not that we are bad people; it is the bullshit that was inculcated into our brains since birth. The American Dream, work hard and you will succeed. Maybe I was precocious because I never bought into that bullshit. Sure there are Bill Gates, Warren Buffett and a whole bunch of self made very wealthy people. However, the overwhelming majority of global wealth is inherited. Yea, people are born into it, which takes a lot of hard work.



If poverty was a chosen condition it would require the following mindset:



“Honey, I was thinking, who really needs a car, nice house, vacations, adequate heath care, education for our kids. Babe, that shit is over rated, I think we should shoot for being Destitute.”



If you believe it’s their fault you can not run from that logic. Sure you see poor people on the street corner drinking and it appears they do not want to partake of the American Dream, but it is only that they have had their hearts ripped out of their chests, and they simply no longer give a shit.



Briefly, world hunger:



Ever see those poor beyond poverty people from third world Countries waiting in line for hours for a friggin bag of rice and the friggers are grateful! If I was hungry and had to wait in line for two hours and some dude handed me a bag of rice, I would say:



“What the frig am I suppose to do with this?

“Go to a wedding?”

“Give me a burger and a beverage of my choice or I will kick your ass!”

Well, I am an American.



I never do this but I will step out of character.



THE BIGGEST CRIME OF THE LAST ONE HUNDRED YEARS IS NOT THE HOLOCAUST, NOT THE LACK OF CONCERN ABOUT THE AIDS PANDEMIC, IT IS THAT AS A GLOBAL COMMUNITY WE ALLOW ANOTHER HUMAN BEING TO GO TO SLEEP AT NIGHT HUNGRY. IN THIS TIME OF THE UNPRESEDENTED ONCENTRATION OF HUMAN WEALTH AND TECHNOLOGICAL ADVANCEMENT WE ALLOW THAT CRIME TO GO UNFOUGHT DEFINES ME AS A PIECE OF SHIT! YOU DECIDE FOR YOURSELF. I GUESS WHEN WE DECIDE TO LOOK AT ONE ANOTHER AS TRUE BROTHERS AND SISTERS, MAYBE THEN WE WILL RISE AS ONE AND SAY NO MORE!



Till then, fuck you and give me a burger and a beverage of my choice.