The Kreepy Kids

Written by: Chris D. Aechtner

I've been reading more poetry written by the Kreepy Kids,
seeing, feeling the divisions and fractions
of organic formulas rotting back into next spring's soil:

To bare it all on paper.

All of it.

To feel so detached from mainstream goals and societal expectations,
to feel so disenfranchised with all the stupid poofs
leading stupid-poof lives 
filled with stupid routines,
with celebrating holidays all year round(<---- and here is my own hypocrisy) --
holidays registering on the monetary Richter scale
as another expense added to an ever-growing standard of living,
defended by plastic, skipping excuses spinning on gramophones
no longer lined in mother-of-pearl ....

.... that when partaking in the catharsis of the soul,
one doesn't want to be too synthetical about it
since the world is already sickly from so much plastic.

Yes, the plastic lines are pretty to read,
and yes, reality is a matter of perception,
but for some, obedience within creative purging isn't fun,
isn't conducive towards the intended process.

For me it isn't about judgment, 
it's simply a matter of taste 
flowing from me 
onto paper -
flowing in free-form jazz.

Oh wait .... did I change tense and perspective?
Yes, I did. Sometimes I forget how I am also a Kreepy Kid -
if now only a kid at heart.

I do understand, still understand: I go to work, I am a consumer too.
But why not harbour rebel forces in the core,
support guerrillas to fight for the real, uninhibited you.

The Kreepy Kids are part of this chapter's final disease.
There are times when poison is the cure.
Our third eyes are watching the inner and outer world unravel,
choke on the smoke spewing from greedy money-stacks.

(trip-slip, tense-switch, and action) 

I am God's pesticide being sprayed upon logos and religion,
to help save the apple from the meek-weeds,
for I am not a firm supporter of inheritance,
instead believing that people should work hard for success.

If the meek do inherit the earth,
I will sink my fangs into their flesh
and drink until my heart pumps blood
cleansed by a different sort of humility,

staying true enough to myself
that costumes are merely for pleasure, 
not to filter character behind,

because every day is Hallowe'en,
yeah, for us, every day is Hallowe'en.

So we wish you a Mar(r)y-Skary Kristmas
and a Spooky New Year.

"Deck the halls in kreepy-krawlies,
Fra-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la
'Tis the season to be jolly,
Fra-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la!"

November 5th/6th, 2013