Nic Custer Poems
|2.||Spitting A Deluge||11/25/2007|
|4.||Break Trust In Case Of Commitment||11/25/2007|
|5.||Earth Bound Love Poem||11/25/2007|
|7.||Piano Key Rib Cage||11/25/2007|
|8.||Hungry Streets And House Arrested Development||11/25/2007|
|9.||Your Vinyl Tounge||4/8/2008|
|10.||Lumbering Aspirations And Steel-Driven Dreams||4/8/2008|
|12.||Withdrawing From Sleep||3/30/2008|
|13.||Happiness Is A Warm Spoon||3/30/2008|
|16.||All Writers Are Haunted||4/8/2008|
It seems I've been lying.
I didn't grow up on the streets.
I didn't struggle with the choice
of a gun in my hand or a bullet in my chest.
I have never shot heroin
into collapsed veins in my neck
and never sold my soul for coke.
I wasn't born with a silver spoon
but it wasn't wooden either.
Closer to lead really,
just right for poisoning the spirit.
I have never been homeless by necessity,
although by choice is another issue.
I have never been incarcerated, unless
you count the lockdown in my mind.
I have never slit my wrists because
mommy and ...
But we'll never be broke,
She said. Even when our
pockets are turned out
and wallet lies barren
because we are wealthy
in spirit. We have
stockpiles of pride
and chest full of hope.
And they will have to