Tuesday, August 4, 2009
upon tasting the horizon
post traumatic mess in order
cancel that call
destruction is imminent
the view is fantastic!
dirt bombs and pillows
piled high
spilt milk
split lip
cleft eye
crooked fingers
cold cooked dirt
worm soup
worn clothes
tribute to
the ever faithful
pray homage
collapse is construction
in death,
cleanliness
all in all
beginning and end
one in the same
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3 comments:
Dope opening line. I love turning phrases like that, with all the similar sounds of the old saying and reinventing it into something new. I especially like it since it's PTSD is so often associated with veterans coming home from war, and a lot of images in this poem are linked with war and violence. Dirt Bombs and Pillows is also a very cool line. Though, upon reading it a second time I wasn't sure if it was "dirt bombs" or "dirt, bombs, and pillows" either way it's cool, though I kind of like the listing of them as separate better. And definitely a fan of the spilt/split, crooked/cooked. I like doing that a lot in my poems as well. Very cool shit man. I dig it. For some reason that bastard Vonnegut kept popping up in my head when reading this.
kt
Hah I went back to read it again after I commented. I have to say, this may be my favorite piece you've written. "Destruction is imminent/the view is fantastic!" That's great. And that image of "Crooked fingers/Cold cooked dirt" is pretty strong and jarring to say the least. And I like the last stanza, the compiling of those almost cliche sayings, they're almost slogan-like, just like the slogans and fortune cookie patriotism that floats around these days, where a saying like "these colors don't run" is enough to convince people of the virtues of war. Good shit dude.
kt
glad you dig it mane. i am gonna try to move in this direction.
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