D.F.S.

Savage pack animals, reacting to blood,

in fist, fury, frenzy,

kicking, punching, biting,

till the hard-on  dies,

some one's quiet drink, an overture for violence,

To the nameless, faceless, BANG!,

f**k you pal,

gangs hording hatred, exploding Saturday nights,

no safety for the hunters, or the hunted,

dance in fire and you'll burn,

bigger, better, younger, more,

trouble finds it's self, in bars

and nightclubs, streets and homes,

always unexpected, always there,

a clawing film of tension, sprung to overload,

another glass gets broken, humanity scarred,

damaged forever, damaged for what,

casualty overflows,

with the affluence of incohol,

busted teeth, blood, puke, piss, pizza,

shattered nights litter the gardens

of the broken walks home,

the animals f**k with vigour,

victory for the beast, 

prime evil urge for war, 

a nation of this madness is why I left.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

You might be the best I've seen, as far as stringing a trail of singular words to convey a heavy intense point, but not attempting to deliver this in the form of a statement: "fist, fury, frenzy" . . . "nameless, faceless, BANG!" . . . "busted teeth, puke, piss" . . . and on & on. I love how you do this. You do it so well. Your poem describes the exact senselessness I am escaping by living alone in the wilderness, so I particularly love your ending (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[gram linski]

a happy ending back at ya Margie,, :))))

[Eilis]

Your last line is where I find myself searching for the broader meaning (the inciting experience of the poem) but it's not really important, I can discern the heart of the poem without that information. I can see it a couple of ways--like the native son leaving his homeland, or, alternatively--the transplant finally growing tired of the native clamor and moving on.

The chaos is clear, and seems the point, largely. Well, that and the fact that it is all a kind of senseless kerfuffle. Like eating glass for fun and thinking it gives you street cred. But, having lived in the poorer sides of town a lot in my life, I get the underlying approach that these 'savage pack animals' have to life. Like, when life gives you lemons--you f**k the world up. Or something like that. Poverty and poor education are a volatile cocktail for the modern human being. Throw in a side of unemployment and things get even better. But, then your end here makes me wonder if we're on a different road. A warring nation.

I don't know. Maybe I'm way off base. But, even though I dislike the chosen chaos of the disabused and disenfranchised, I can sympathize. When the silver lining seems to have been smudged out, all you've got left is a gray f*****g cloud following you everywhere.

A visceral imagery triptych here, Gram. I understand the sentiment of the last line--a few different ways it can be taken, but, which ever way, the feeling of disconnection and desire to not just fall in with the crowd is felt.

[gram linski]

it was a bit, of both, I did remove myself from the bampottery and then found it in abundance elsewhere you well know the madness is communal, as for a warring Nation; if you come against us we will stand proud and fight and die together free, if however you leave us alone we will kick f**k out of each other, regardless

[Shazbatt969]

Sounds like Mad Max meets the Jagerbomb, might stop off for a drink, but probably not two

[gram linski]

Thanks Shazbatt, wouldn't even stop for a piss, lol

[Faust]

I liked this poem a ton. The flow was great and it was very interesting.

-Emily

[gram linski]

Thanks Emily, glad you enjoyed it, unfortunately a common occurrence, these days