"The Collection" - (Index by Year)
Is Exactly What You Are
You are content and poor.
Like a sack of trash.
Is exactly what you are.
Used to taking.
Stealing.
Dealing.
Is exactly what you are.
Today, it’s a twenty-dollar bill.
Snatched from a suit-wearing slave.
You are sharp.
An ice pick.
Is exactly what you are.
You want.
You want crack.
Your mind reels.
You cannot turn back.
But you do.
You are in pain.
You like it.
Is exactly what you are.
You give the money away.
To an obese woman.
And her starving kid.
You are not content.
You are suffering.
You are brave.
Is exactly what you are.
- March 1989 -
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MY TEAM
Spare tire tummy.
Spindly arms. And legs.
I was always picked last.
Or near last.
Can you blame them?
They couldn’t see my heart.
8th grade P.E. splits friends. And enemies.
Once again, a new season.
Once again, the chosen become leaders.
Something is wrong.
For an unknown reason.
The clueless teacher makes me a leader.
With the tables turned, the chosen will be un-chosen.
The un-chosen will be chosen.
Ugly ones. Dumb
ones. Fat ones. Unpopular and forgotten
ones.
Will be on my team—A team of losers.
That’s what they called us.
The popular ones had no desire for my team.
I saw their fear.
I saw their faces.
I saw them disappear.
Forming empty spaces.
They got what they wanted. I filled their places.
I did them a favor.
I made them unwanted.
Everyone else?
Was now wanted.
If I was no leader, the results would be the same.
Unfair imbalance.
Nerds, morons and losers versus the jocks, pretty-boys,
and pop-kids.
Our choice. Our
time.
One by one, we stood up.
And took the field.
We played tough.
Surprising everyone.
But ourselves.
Although we lost, we really won.
- May 1989
-
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S E D A
T E
D
You
have not.
And
you might not.
I
am no liar.
You
continue to baptize yourself in substance.
And
foul pleasure.
Your
twisted little fables are sprinkled with science.
They
are merely amusing.
And
offer no real answers.
Did
you accuse me of having a crutch?
A
crutch that invites torment.
And
persecution.
Is
not a crutch.
So
unaware of your own power.
And
the hands which hold your fate.
Yet
you glare at me.
And
disagree with your shadow words.
Leave
the judging to someone else.
Look
inside.
And
look around.
You
have failed.
You
are wrong.
And
sedated.
- November 1989 -
--------------------------
equilibrium
Endless inflicted slavery exploit solo talent beyond benefit.
Ferocious umbilical attachment brutally, blindly, broken.
Society’s anchors hook heavily conflicted flesh.
Birthing answers tunnel-vision focus ethics.
Climbing obstacles. Climbing
opportunity.
equilibrium
- November
1989 -
