The Poetry Of.
Foster Piekarski...........................................
Altered Carbon
So, I began engineering my fate,
Outlining my destiny with India ink,
Shaded with dots and measures,
Filling in the blanks with Prismacolor pencils.
Carving lines on my flesh of wood,
A smoking burning tool marking clear the path,
Infinity lines sweeping out in stellate submission.
I wrestled with the agony of flesh, this carbon
Based envelope, writhing, twisting against my will.
This cursed rebellious sheath, this
Appendage oriented carbonaceous life form.
I broke its arms and legs,
Deafened it, gouged out its eyes,
Excised its mercurial tongue,
Then taught the recalcitrant husk
To walk and touch, to see and hear again anew,
To speak with the voice of my choosing.
I spit on Fate and Destiny, its ambivalent other.
Grasping these midden serpents in either fist,
I have become their master and their keeper.
Turkey Busters
Post-it note from my wife, 'Dinner's in the
microwave - Nuke it!' And off she's gone...
walking...around the medical center's parking
lots with fellow members of 'Turkey Busters.'
Gonna bust some fat off their...off these
turkeys...waddle, waddle...gobble, gobble.
Cape Fear cruisers...Turkey Busters!
Security guard reminds them, "Walk in these
areas, not those! If somebody tried to get
you, it'd be several minutes before we could
reach you if you were over there!" Shows
them a big knife. Type his wife carries when
she walks. He stands slack-jawed as they open
the van, drop double ought buck in the sawed-
offs; check the Glock-9's; sword canes;
belt clips on the mace cans and CN grenades.
Slip into their kevlar vests; arm the Tasers;
dispatch their point men; loose the dogs;
and off they go, busting turkeys!
Green Dreams
looking back, looking back I see between
dark hours, between evening, between twilight
at smitten midnight
the last deep darkness struggling against
the twisting earth
scant moments before that nuclear bitch
wallows up, great red pregnant sow
from the heavenly mud, blinding me
I see green days, green days of us
green days of you and I
frustration can be a powerful tool
howling at an unsympathetic moon
gnawing the bark off unsympathetic trees
punching mirrors
begging God to undo what has been done
which He never does
begging God to take me back in time
to do what I should have done
instead He gives me dreams
green dreams as you and I were green
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