PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I am sitting on the back porch

watching the cats fuck

I've got nothing else
I ain't alive just yet
My feet keep sinking into

this old ground
it wants to suck me back to God
My thoughts conspire
my spirit split and undone,

like an old servant's dress

I feel the history of this house
I walk the path from this life to the next
"and my soul looked back and wondered,

how I got over"
Lord, I don't know.

Madison,
with eyes corrupt

I got the shame
that makes forgotten graves
because I can't look up

I found
a 100 year old airplane
built in the heat of an evening
by a kitchen fire
It is wooden
Venerable
life altering
I ingest my horrid regard

after all, this could be worse.