GRANT FRASER (JUNE 7 1964 / ABERDEEN)
I hit myself a few times today,
on Poem-hunter, just what can I say,
I wanted to look at me, not you, or him,
yes - I was disgusted, these photo-image
words are not mine,
they are robots, serving the mighty machine,
I have blood inside, and hasten to find,
stains that prove I am real most of the time,
Sorry if you think, that I'm just poeticising,
or flexing my need to exist...
I've read so much great things today,
I don't know if I can continue...
And in the living room I stopped cold,
with the cut out dots all around me...
Comments about this poem (COOKIES by GRANT FRASER )
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