A Political Dollars Two Sense - Writers Forum

SerenityJS · 01-30-2008, 09:45 AM

In my shower I write poetry
ten handed poetry
two fingered poetry

poetry with dirty feet and no where to go
there are dollar signs tattooed on my forehead
and I have a headache

I have a LARGE head
BAAALLLLDDD HEAD

I smoke with nicotine patches
Not addicted
I am reciting presidential speeches and standing
In my yard naked
My vote is for the woman
Wait, listen to the debate

I come from a lawyer’s office
Plaintiff and defendant, and me walk inside
My tummy
I giggled
And the judge shot his gavel at my head and
I cried
I write George Bush poetry
I write Hillary and Bill poems
I make fun of both candidates
My poems dance around the election committee intoxicated
In a college dormitory, a joint in my hand
I write policy and philosophy on the back of drunk classmates
With whipped crème
Press my lips to the helium tank
And inhale
The fairy singing in tongues around my head
Save me preacher
The choir sings
The alter boy!
There is a demon flying above my head in circles
Buy me insurance
Buy me insurance O Bama
Buy me food
There are devils on my shoulders
I am hungry
I am full of pain
I was full of pain
I carved out twenty five dollars of fraudulent saints
and fed a million greedy politicians’.

Hillary sat on my shoulder like a canary
I swatted a fly like a politicians promise
and asked him to promise me again.

Tell me where I can go when every coffin is nailed shut
Flags of fellow countryman shroud our shame
But I write poems with dirty feet and no where to go
I write my eulogy
Like I was preparing for the second coming of Christ
examining my preacher’s ass for the first time.

At the corner of desperate housewives and big brother street
I clutch my tabloid bio like an anxious celebrity

Stand one centimeter from Brittney’s bald head and cry uncontrollably

Get Dressed!

Fling my cell phone at the paparatsi as Bush’s camera lense
Snaps a picture of trumps crotch

Try to cover it back up

GET DRESSED

I AM THE DYING WHITE MAN
I AM THE BLACK CHILD

A condom on my lunch tray!

Catch me OPRA
Catch me DR PHILL!

Catch me OPRA catcher, catch me
DR PHILL
Tell me
How to loose weight
Like an anorexic football player
Hold my hand
Holding the badlands of the ghetto
Holding me and mine, and his memories
in my prozac bottle.

There is a broken soldier on the battlefield crying all
Night
Long

He cry cries scream screams wails n wails n such
Painful poetic songs

His weapon, a tear

A brother he once knew
His letter, Kevlar
Covered in bullet fragments
his anthem a cry for peace.

our anthem a cry for peace.

SadLuckDame · 01-30-2008, 02:33 PM

Very intense, kept my attention throughout and enjoyable.

For me with Squalor · 01-31-2008, 05:50 AM

Loved it, really moving, sometimes very vague other times crystal clear what you mean.
My only issue (which is not really an issue, but more of a personal lamentation) is that you give a great society critique, but say that you vote for Hillary, (there is nothing wrong with voting for Hillary) and I feel it would have more power if you don't reveal that you are also part of the system that you(we) despise by revealing your voting preference. (now this does not have to be taken seriously, its just a minor thing that caught my stare)
Really good stuff! Congrat.