cockroach in the jazz room
sat on singers shoe
fed on golden olives
from bough hooked low,
ladybirds in 40D brassieres
cut back on the needles
stuck in their eye,
seven spots
notational dots as a code
to the twelve gauge hunter
who stalked them so,
cockroach had breathed
a stallions breath
and knew of a great stratagem,
lead hunter as prey
clarinet bullets penetrate his loins
with a chakka chakka chakka,
40D brassieres strung over light
wings spread
translucent shimmer of paradise,
cockroach touches
with hissing leg,
hunters body spread as sacrifice,
thrum of the drums
there are other monsters/ dragons/pain
drapery gone
meat on the anvil
clogged with anxiety and lust
chakka chakka chakkka,
cockroach fragments
a bed of panties and brassieres
become his resting place

poetry, poem ,

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Comments
  1. nico says:

    meat on the anvil
    clogged with anxiety and lust

    This is disturbing–in a good way, of course! Very surrealistic, some powerful imagery.

  2. shanyns says:

    Wow. That was really cool.

  3. Brian Miller says:

    first, i never thought to chase the cockroaches with a shotgun…then again if that causes them to shoot me in the groin i probably will not try it…def on the surreal side…ha

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