Nazi-colored skin

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  • Life

    Nazi-colored skin

    Woke up first day
    Saw world and way
    And flirted some with being
    Drank a bit
    Smoked some shit
    To deal with what I’m seeing


    A happy child
    For a while
    Then information overload
    For the good to do nothing
    Cannibal prefers a king
    Omniversal head explode


    Brown eyed (fe)male
    Inhale exhale
    Unclear orientation
    Momentarily forever together
    Depending on the weather
    Out-of-gas destination


    Wherever we meet
    On every street
    Surprise reprise despise
    Whomever we’ll know
    And fuck in the snow
    Someone new to tie my ties


    The world’s a mess
    Beautiful dress
    Enchant entrance entrench
    Duck and cover at ease
    Mummified memories
    To unlearn common sense


    Cynical for spring break
    Oh for Oppenheimer’s sake!
    Take pills against inconsequence
    Eaten by the blue
    Crying right on queue
    Happiness past tense


    Scapegoats to do crimes against
    Trigger-happy on the picket fence
    Take my cat’s lives instead
    Orange streetlight
    Join the utterly gray fight
    Never mind whatever I said


    They dish out cold bullshit
    This’ll hurt just a little bit
    There’s no way we cannot win
    Closing my eyes and ears
    Succumbing to still stranger fears
    You sure got under my Nazi-colored skin

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    Chaos128 commented on Nazi-colored skin

    10-28-2010

    Yes, life can certainly have you banging off the walls, walking on the ceiling and who knows what all. But you got admit, S, if you engage all systems at the same time, and open the throttle up, there's never a dull moment.
    Reply to Comment

    ginga commented on Nazi-colored skin

    10-28-2010

    This is of phenomenal proportions for so many reasons. I am in awe of the content and social-ethnic biases and nuances contained within that glean satire. ginga
    Reply to Comment

    erroneousflint commented on Nazi-colored skin

    10-18-2010

    We never remain with any feeling, pure and simple, but always surround it with the paraphernalia of words. The word distorts it; thought, whirling around it, throws it into shadow, overpowers it with mountainous fears and longings.___J.K.__A powerful write that purges any and all life from our bullshit
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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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