Thursday, April 04, 2013

Poem: "A Position of Defeat 4"


there is no sun in this watering hole
we all cough up ten dollars to get in
another ten to wasted youth to drink
mucus and sperm from the devil’s punch bowl

seething with suffering, a hollow laugh
low expert whispers, nerves strung on a string
the introduction of hands, missing ring
bad breath, bonhomie of the corpse’s bluff

thickening, the black man with a hunted look
drops my limp dick and rubs the punchbag abs
of younger black (dead eyes), whose hanging tab
is paid by whitie and white-collar work

payback, fallback, kickback, rollback, who knows?
the throat tightens, the blood beats in the ears
the stream swells, then trickles into the cashier
stuffing knocked out, defeated, homestead goes

better this than that, better in than through
justice, rights, love, family, marriage, laws
i’d rather be damned than be made a cause
i’d rather be damned than be same as you

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