Peter Black Poems

This human world is fixed with chains and locks.
Children are told with their arms and legs clasped,
'Do not think of what is not sold or bought.'
As they are led from closed box to hot box,
...

It is contrary to your station
Get on the floor
Slave master is going to chord you
hit you up blood, put your head in a hole,
...

I have a good friend called The Beetle.
We are true companions
And passionate lovers
Of the night and silence,
...

Cherry roses and sweet things your hopes up,
Are in the sight of eyes that split the light,
Make new colors, stones for a diadem.
Spectrum bursts, your eyes such colors contain
...

Perfection is but a human conceit
Impossible, though constantly placed
Like salt upon all things we eat
To be judged bland, good, always in need.
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To those who doubt that life is hard,
From their pomp and privilege, sight is blocked;
They do not feel the fear of a low wage,
Counting dimes on collection day,
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Burn it to the ground
Any structure or house
And stamp the bones and ash to feed the grass,
Raze the fields that rise in sweat and blood
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I set controls to starboard,
Move at a steady clip and pace
Around the corner,
And make my way
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Counting the days which were thought,
To be something better, bringing a change
Simple as a close and kind face,
To see not with eyes; but the heart
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In terms of life, at first sight people seem
Like ants: move sand, dig holes, walk in line;
But we make far worse a society;
Even I smoke holes through my lungs and throat,
...