Life never promised much… born
in a crack, raised in a cage of gargantuan construction,
tortured by a crew of sadistic gods
whose every casual step
could spell butchery… chased
with rolled newspaper and swatter… days
holed-up in the tv, the radio,
the washer, the dryer, the radiator, the drain;
nights hustling over floors and up walls,
flushed with total fear and garbage lust…
blind feelers wary of death from above
or oases of more trash to gorge,
but useless against the greasy poison…
now, as the petroleum distillate
clogs a last orifice,
I pray my children thrive
and spread the gospel of fear in tight places.
Willie Smith
aiurea press 