So they gave me
The white pills
And the tan pills
The big pills
and cute little footballs
All very scientific
Stamped and approved
By the FDA

Would they change me?
Would I no longer be
Who I am?
They laugh at me
Ain’t that the point
You stupid mother fucker!

I took em
I hear them Yippie-yi-yo-ki-yaying
Through by bloodstream
like kids on a water slide
But when they get to my brain
Oh they get serious
I can hear the clang of hammers
And droning sounds of drills
And the rumble of heavy machinery
Earth movers and cranes
A mechanized symphony

And they don’t change me
They don’t change anything
Numb me for an hour or two
Bout it.

You can never fix a broken mirror
or read a book
With missing pages
Mute people can’t talk
And the deaf can’t hear
Some things are just meant
To be broken
cracked and imperfect
Some things are just meant
To bleed

So I can never have their love
or their joy
or their beauty
their contentments
their smiles

I don’t understand them
And they’ll never understand me
Nothing wrong with that
Just the way it is
Some things are just meant to be broken
Some things are just meant to bleed.

In the halls of the damned

The Dead call to me
In tongues
At Once
Whispering
Cajoling
Strident
Consuming
Terrible
Only I can hear them

Objects are dimensionless
Depth flees
Width and length
Have no size
Only shadows
Only shadows

The world stops
I can hear it struggle
To Breathe
Sipping breath
Like an elixir of doom

Smiles become winces
Joy – hysteria
Love – obsession
Altruism a carcass
Devoured
By beaks sharpened
On the cloaked shores of mysterious lands
I can hear waves crash
In unimaginable violence
I can hear screams as bones snap
The watery sound of severed throats
Plead for mercy
Plead for meaning

They’re only voices
Only sounds
Only shadows
Marching to war
To a cadence
That has sounded
Through the ages
Can you hear it?
Deeper than a heartbeat
rumbling
Shaking mountains
Like A hurricane wind
It blows

It will never stop
it can
Never stop

They’re…
Only sounds
Only voices
Only darkness
Only wind
Only one heart beating
Only shadows

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