Carl A.I. Poems
|17.||The Trip With Ashlie And Jason||5/4/2004|
|26.||Two Days. Two Days Later Is The Sabbath.||3/13/2005|
|28.||Walking Through The Cemetary On Heroin....||5/4/2004|
|30.||God Bless Our Troops||4/19/2004|
|32.||Death At Dinnertime||4/19/2004|
|34.||A New Beginning.||4/19/2004|
Your diaphanous neglige, wrinkled, wadded in your purse
like your intentions.
My sycophantish responses kept latent as well.
We both know what we want but won't bring it to light
for fear of the moths of destruction
that might flutter about it.
Yet we still stick together like the needle
that intravenously delivers life to the junkie.
Simeltaneously we become bruised
like track marks.
To want a love you don't dare to vocalize.
The reciprication of these feelings.
They flutter inside our hearts like the butterfly
but also cut deep as if the wings were ...
We've all been black, We all been
white. We've all been to hell and back and
know how to fight.
I'm in this deep, I excavate triple layers. I eliminate war vets
with little rhyme sprayers. To wake up early is to search for
pearls in the deserts but to expand four wings that are not fully feathered. I'm not teathered like blue balls but I deconstruct cat calls and stand you upon rocky mountain pinnacles. I win and then fall. I've lost. Given up heads. I haven't been blessed. I've