blood and bread
(men, menstruation, meat and murder)
"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day"
give me my breath
my kneads
my new grains
my daily routine
poutine and biscuits
slumgullion and other sidecars
i was
the quiet sun
the turn to go in motion
molecules clamoring a frenzy
to an end
bending i wasn't
i was
late night diner fare
i never would have tried
to imagine life as being something other
than beautiful suffering
if i had known i would lose
the humanity in my eyes
trying not to let anyone notice
that i would only be able
to see blighted
souls and the scented feel
what beauty does
when passing by someone
unnoticed
eyes lie
to me
and to you too
they tell me that, what
is always stagecraft
and, why
always has
greasy pockets
the mechanics
of apathy are such
that no one notices
how high they're driving life
over the bones and bodies
of those left behind
the horses whinny
the wheat stands
raised heads
waiting
all saying me too
curved blade
held candle handles
praying the play
stalks be cut
like hope
from time
and the binds
that hold us
neat as pin
dressed nine too
murderer
executioner
bastard children
of Lilith
here at the end
of this poem
do you hear them too
how they wish
for a better tomorrow
do you
EJR ©
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