Swan Song #1132
fuck the singing, say it with blood...
make it a mindscream... I'm sick of all these
windpajamming pansy poesy
they can all suck my left and wrong nut...
FUCK the dance, gimme john wayne squatting
on the can,
and a knifeedged stain in your shorts. gimme
a shot of jameson's goddamit... gimme reality
stark and pure...
I want poems with hangnailsbunionspopculturereferences
in them. gimme midget-tossing, whores
ticklers and the cop
in the rearview with a billyclub that moonlights
as a dildo...
fuck the song, DOWN with the dance...
keats, shakespeare, rimbaud was nutn but a swishy
type... pound can go pound
sandburg. gimme BLOOD! gimme bukowski!
loud and STINKING! gimme that fuckin typer!
I'll show you how it's DONE... Show you how you SHOVE
the KUM in the QUAT and the twat
in your face. I've been at this game
three whole years.
published 711 poems in 332 sunken
I keep the line clean... I keep it dark
and just a little dirty and mean...
know what I mean? I mean I'm sick of the BULLSHIT...
the assmunching mfa workshop billymotherfuckincollins
ya hear me?
I'm sick of the scene that's been dominating
me. this JOYGIDDY honest to goodness soulsucking
here, tell ya what, you can have this goddamned
typer. and the
jameson's shot. the shit gives me
what I'm saying is I'm quitting.
hell, I QUIT. I just ain't CUT for this CRAP... ya
hear me? I'm, like, OUT.
see ya in cancun, peepaw...
I never liked poetry in the first place...
it's a FAGGOT's game...
are you a faggot?
(smallpress "presence" 2007-
--M.P. Powers likes sexually propositioning telemarketers, male or female. "How 'bout you and I go in the back of that boiler room..." His poetry has appeared at Calliope Nerve, Yellow Mama, Rusty Truck, Underground Voices, etc. More info here: http://www.nyqpoets.net/poet/mppowers.