PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Trying to discern

                   a difference

          in the

            poetry

               I write

            and the poetry

                  I feel

       I stumble upon

       a demented twist

       of subtle emotion

            motif of outreaching

                               hands

            and making it

                 to the dawn

                  begin to surface

                       though I know

                                  each day

            I shall rise

                    to indifference

            Unhappy work

                                for fear

                             of starvation

             earn money

                  for the power

               of consumerism

                I miss take

                    hollow satisfaction

             fake gratification

                 for a genuine joy

              Masturbate

                      on illusions

                              of grandeur

                   swept away

                         by alienation

                 No I am not

                             alone

                  though it sure

                         as Hell feels like it

                 as MTV

                     humanoids

                              parade before me

               extolling the virtue

                               of their emptiness

               as hysteria

                    proclaims thought

                              a narcotic

            deadlier than crack—

                          indeed!

                 It might lend

                            my rebellion

                         a once noble

                              trade

                 now lowered

                       to the level

            of Neanderthal

                 Primitive, yes

                    like a shaman

                        perhaps

              dance around

                          the fire

                  chant, chant

            sing and chant

                like the wind

                    to tom-tom

                      of emancipation

suppose the rising sun

                 motif

              would be

                 quite overworked

              about now

                 opt instead

             for setting sun

                    and a good night’s

                                sleep

             hope ethereal dreams

                     illuminate

                            my

                   unconsciousness

9/28/1988