DiabetevilleA Poem by AlprisAn 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 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 |
StatsAuthorAlprisAuckland, New ZealandAboutHere 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..Writing
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