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Karma

The air was thick with water, And I listened to the sound of light, Shake our tiny house, our tiny heads, Your tiny heart, And the big bad old sky, The sounds of this old house, And your old voice, Make my brain and bones ache, And the heat from your body makes me miss the cold, The world was blurred to an impressionist painting, When you strode out to swim in it, To prove you could still be spontaneous, And if you damn well wanted, you would, I watched from the window, You opened your mouth to it, Like a fleshy, bad breathed cup, And then kissed me with your precipitation-slimy lips, Sometime in the night, I will sing you this whisper: The say that rain leaves everything changed, Freshborn butt-slapped baby new, But it’s just old sewage making the rounds, Your own piss pouring down on you, Oh yes my darling, that’s all it is, Your own piss pouring down on you.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 2/18/2010 10:45:00 AM
I love this. As authentic as any poem I've read on this site - and I can relate totally to this poem, though my experience was before leaving my childhood home. Keep writing, I'll be reading!
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Date: 9/7/2009 11:01:00 AM
Sorry to have offended you with the language Nadia! But I don't agree that Shakespeare is 'more authentic' than modern forms of poetry. Perhaps you need to broaden your perspective of what constitutes poetry. I think you have a very narrow view point.
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Date: 9/7/2009 9:40:00 AM
You need to mend your language and read more authentic poems starting with Shakespeare.
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Date: 8/26/2009 1:16:00 PM
Unusual thoughts put to pen. The last two stanzas are somewhat humorous. Keep writing. Sara
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things