Litkicks Message Board Archive


Posted to Action Poetry

they rolled me out from under a rock
dusted me off as best as they could
a martyr for stigmata
and i'm bearing this wood
dragged for miles
finally, i arrive, the one to be served
confident and balanced
the fruits of thy labor
immeasureable goodwill
for the benefit of thy neighbor
bright daiquiri's and mtv
mowing me down
on highway 33
ignoring signs pointing to town
to follow doves into the ground
i'll realize what's wrong
the moment you leave
so don't be too long
or too far from me
she said:
there's something i've to tell you
-- i wondered where you were --
but why do you smell like roses
if you've been so badly hurt?