Diabeteville

Diabeteville

A Poem by Alpris
"

An activity for class, had to take a walk up the road and observe our surroundings and turn it into a poem.

"
It's a fine afternoon
for a stroll in Diabeteville
I have been there before, but with
aged eyes and neglected arteries
perfected ignorance, casting black scars
across the half-assed sky and bleeding spirit away
it's horrible, deadly I think
but anyway, first I have to
light
a
smoke... 

sparrows shooting arrows at my ears through the trees
the trees that have no scent, their beauty lent
with gear-grinding squawks that confirm my fears
as I take a drag and indulge in the poisonous f*g
touche... who cares. 

A cow waddles in front
so blunt, and
with the attire of a million ruffled feathers
Vermilion; the colour of desired authority
I ought to give her a kick in the ovaries
Shut up, b***h
I am well aware that smoking isn't healthy
do I think I emerged from the same ghastly, crusty
cave as yours?
You're not wealthy of potential; God didn't add you to the will
naivete clashing with sensitivity
Queen of no creativity, let me be.

Past the green and onto the grey
fabric worn with a million feet a day
polluted and freckled with gum, if you may;
there is no room for our hearts to play
much to my dismay.

An X-ray clinic? 
money earned on cynical gimmicks
to see inside
the shell of a stranger in danger
I can see perfectly well
the smudge and the bulge
that blurs one's sense of living
and it lies here in Diabeteville.

I see it in the rundown buildings and stores
shameless w****s that beg for open car doors
children with no shoes,
solo parents reeking of booze
never paint over a child's happy hues
don't ever.

I see it in the alcohol store....
it stands out; subliminal beauty
it's become an everyday duty; pour, wine, pour
I stop to inhale the lessening heartache
medicinal brain cell damage, 
heartbreak and ever-mellow mud lake
turn away for your liver's sake
you fool; you're RESPONSIBLE, not fake.

I've seen enough;
on the way back 
the smell of heart attack 
vibrates, disintegrates
flutters away with the dead crunch of leaves
beneath my feet, away with the dust.
I see dozens of colourful school bags for sale,
health centers and pale musicians on crumpled pin-ups
hoping, holding on to save their already-corrupted
....lives, if you must
it's a f*****g joke
there are too many food stores
with oils boiling lethal fanfares and silent wars
I'm growing mentally tired
as I
light
a
smoke...

forget the b***h back there
with nostrils flared, psychotic eyes popped to a jeer
at least there is one fire left in this hole
and it doesn't slide and curve against a dirt pole.

- - -

Off of the grey and into the green
through the gate where a smile can be beamed
I've finished my smoke; and it dies with the steam

Farewell, Diabeteville,
until I need a drink.

© 2012 Alpris


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Added on May 2, 2012
Last Updated on May 4, 2012
Tags: unhealthy food bad lifestyle sad

Author

Alpris
Alpris

Auckland, New Zealand



About
Here is a reference to my artistry - a painting of myself and Myra Hindley: At the point of acquaintance , I generally go by Alpris; a name given to me by someone I don't know, let alone the in.. more..

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A Poem by Alpris