Piece of Meat

The boulevard is hollow with the sound

of shadows falling down

caresses the late night two-in-the-morning

roaming without purpose

homeless yet under this canopy - where no eyes

in their human curiosity can witness

the part-time employment

of a piece of meat...

 

He has lost count of years,

the self-deluded reasoning behind why

his feet are numb

and his sense of smell & taste

have intertwined;

where to go, and how to get there,

what to do when he arrives

carrying the dust of too many lives

he has fabricated like a coat of multi-colored

dementia for an armor

shielding words from his emotions,

sewing together the happy ending...

 

a piece of meat has no story

when it is consumed, to fill the hunger of beasts

like teeth of wolves chewing

with the voracity of a fierce unfed hunter,

for it is easiest to capture the kill

than discover that the food

in it’s short lived days

had life, complicated with moments

complete with choices

the laws of the universe - and kingdom of us

(those who preceive and roar like gods,

yet others with empathy of goddesses)

 

There is always a choice

to be

what it is you make

yourself

               see...

"no eyes doth have a piece of meat"

Reviews

[Lyn Anderson]

This is a fantastic piece of work. It has eyes, even if the meat doesn't.

[Butch Decatoria]

Thank you K

[savesthedaynj]

I really like how you used "the part-time employment/of a piece of meat..." to represent a prostitute and the emptiness involved in the profession. The imagery is fabulous with the "dust of too many lives/ he has fabricated like a coat of multi-colored/dementia for an armor/shielding words from his emotions"... it just flows so well. Great work!

[badgirl beth]

Powerfully profound...great write...Wow~~