Saturday, March 16, 2013

dear hatred

dear hatred,

thank you for the conversation starter
the tip about the rolling eyes
the smiles that disguise

I feel my upper lip begin to curl
my tongue begin to swirl

I clinch my jaw and prepare to awe
all of those around me

a sweet bashing
my words like hooks
they tear and perform a lashing

the audience, their eyes, they widen as if surprised

their gasps like static fill the air
connect and disappear

their vision shifts and slants
we have got them now

I, your buddy, me
I have showed them how

a great release, I feel inside
as my insecurity subsides

and as the crowd begins to think
the shock I delivered begins to sink

a shadow grows inside it's place
and dances upon each human face

I tower over man and monster
ruler of my own

our eyes like fire prance and sway
to you dear hatred we start to pray
















matt duke

pretty shitty city kitty

I pity the kitty in the city for the kitty in the city is shitty. she eats from hands and garbage cans. she deals in backwards plans. oh shitty kitty in the city the soot it stains you well. dear kitty from the city, do you stem from hell? your breath it stains the air of alcohol. your mouth twitching contorting frowning to all. oh kitty less witty than the rest of the city. was there a time when you were once pretty?

oh dear dear dear dear kitty.


matt duke

this poem is about work

if I move the more
the more is unmoved

I sit and contemplate
how to counter initiate
but the breathless breathing of
this uphill battle leaves me grieving

so I suffer in the form of sleeping

muscles move the might of mighty men; however, this mighty mans
muscles lack the luster for true strength is difficult to muster

tendons have a tendency to tighten

uphill teething uphill breathing uphill seething

uphill

life's highest point is at it's peak and this I hide my eyes from and pray it is not too steep

with each step I feel the edge, the swaying breeze up in my head

the snap it sounds, the branch it breaks, csweat it pours and forms small lakes

my identity seems to slouch
my mind it races and I race for the couch










matt duke