Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Stepladders to the Apocalypse Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Saturday 10/11/2008 12:18:00 AM

He had his sad eyes on. The ones he wears when everyone is looking. There's a coroner in his glance. And nothing in his gaze. It's episodes like that which convince me we are not linear. More so elastic. Being stretched. Snapping back. Learning to walk again. In the shadows of those first steps. Death is only a piece of meat. Which tempts us in our infinite hunger.

What you need to remember about the snake is that it didn't create the apple. It only suggested tasting it. If you believe in god the choice is ours. That's why the devil was rejected. If you don't. No difference. There are no bad people. Only bad decisions. But temptation. That's all too real.

His lips like chainsaws carving. bits of skin. Take my clothes off. I'm not naked. It's the foul of touch. Hiccoughs of pleasure in so much shame. The darkness consoling trembling legs. In loose wisdom's about knowing the enemy.

He suggests they cut the baby in half.

And both mothers agree.

2 comments:
Barlinnie said...

Even the title of this particular piece is fantastique!

alcholic poet said...

the title and the whole thing was entirely inspired by current events. i've been waiting for the world to end for a long time. now that it's finally happening, i'm sorta disappointed.

thanx for stopping by again.




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