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Friday, June 3, 2011

Words That Kill

Let’s go men!

By two I’d mastered me and mine and I

But all three needed grub

To thrive and grow.

Ma said so next you’ll need

An object called miss right

Who’ll fill your objectifying self

With words of love and praise,

A necessary swap for mother’s milk

To nourish the insatiable reflexive,

Self-validating self

For it must live anxiety-free

In complete control

Or it will shrivel and then just die.

At last in flight

Nearing earth’s blue troposphere

I saw a cloud above

And mistook it for true substance.

What terrible disappointment

When I entered your white veil --

Just dust and vapor,

All icy nothingness

And there I lost my stimulating color

As my warm air passed above your chill,

Denigrating into a deadly dull and quiet calm,

Indulging my merest privations

To condense, and then evaporate,

All omnipotence long gone.

Oh, I heard your frosty whisper squall:

You’ve lost the plot!

You forgot your lines, imposter!

You can’t sustain the fiction

And don’t deserve your rank.

I escalate the mimic and the mime,

Because though they be false

They promise one might be true

To make more of me,

But I’m not here for you.

I don’t respect you

So pass through, go on.

If I had skin,

You’d make it crawl!

I’ve turned from writing fiction

To preparing useful stuff:

Sprinkle with well ground glass

Then finish under boiler

Until puffed and golden brown.

Now cut asbestos cloth

Into nice thin strips and

Place inside gas dryer.

Before leaving, drop copper coin

Directly into fuse box.

I asked you,

One more for the road?

And then re-boarded

To fly higher with warm wind.

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