Luke J. Holt

Veteran Poet - 1,696 Points (1-14-91 / fullerton CA)

It Must Be Nice - Poem by Luke J. Holt

It must be nice to look nice
To, like confection, look tempting to taste and smell
Dopamine lavish morsel sense halt expanse
Your threads are burning and i walk past, made a rodent in the light of enchanted shape
Skin made of the stuff of moons
Priceless cheese or cocaine white
Zinc hued mystic flurry burn in quiet snow not met
Not met
Her
Not yet

I will not attempt to outrun the river
I will wait on the stones for death's horses

In nocturnal fog cast in squash-colored light
I resist nudity in the dying grass and spin spells in flatulent mumbles.
I am the western wind walking
Trudging in toe-deep rain looking for beauty's silver horn to stretch its bell to the umber village
It must feel good to feel good
Happy champions and affirmed, exalted flowers
Unblistered slabs on walking skin and thumping beats that cease to mean
Almost everything is preposterous
Dog, tree, man, boat, cat, truck, sink, stove, frying pan, cow, vacuum cleaner.
Stupid, unlikely coincidences of molecules
But we know beauty
We know where it is how how it feels to see, be or not be it
Our blood knows beauty with fingers that never leave the endless river
Threads with eyes that see and charge at its gates like idiot steer
It must be nice to look nice
It must feel nice to feel nice
Would it hurt me to hurt me?
Would it kill you to be me?

Strangers in ugly columns
Towers of virus
God damn it, i hate them
The sea makes the sky dark
The mirror is swollen with garish fluorescence
Restaurant clamor
Beauty defies exceptions
Like coins it makes rains of presents and blessings
The crows must pillage corn
The bakers must cook their own heads
In the spires of tar the glass falcon god of higher man do nothing
Psychics tied in chairs chant names not of gods
Squids and beasts yield to symmetry
Perfection of hunger
Perfection of control

My dreams ride into my sleep on mules with their throats slit
Kings of no stars
Nights of no joy or peril
It must be nice to be nice
All my thoughts are rats
She and many others are beautiful
I love my garbage
I ran out of space for pleasure
My wine is grey
My days are blinding nights
Coins of moon light stimulate a bowing cornflower
Everything the September sun touches is the color of lion's mane
Drown every bug you see
Keep the castles mint
spangle a CEO in bleached rainbows
Careful
I won't die from age
Soon i will read through the palsied gaps of trees
Brittle, limp, bereft of leaves
It must be nice to look nice
Could we talk about nightmares in the heart's mirror?
Is it painful to be made of always-breathing fire?
Does it smell like pines in rain when you weep?
I ask toads on the road for the way to your tree
I have barking to regret
I'll have some kind of beauty to thank when hoarseness is a dry storm in the last of the green meadow's dim
Lanterns of hope like diseased eyes in the dark of never asleep and hazardous thinking
It must hurt to walk higher always
Flesh like treasure
Protectors of a sheened mask of gritless human chalk
It must feel swell to stock the arrows
Well fed, blemishless exoskeletons
Nothing short of a creator's punctuation
Period
White holes in deep space
Fine for those who waltz in self-hate on asteroids
It must take pain to take pain
It must be rocks that make rocks
It must be grand to look grand
It must be hard to be a lilly
When the sun is leaving court
I'll cross some dotted door
And we will discuss my judgement when someone makes it
Call administration
You're up
I'm still thinking about the nearest exit

Topic(s) of this poem: beauty, envy, struggle


Comments about It Must Be Nice by Luke J. Holt

  • Kelly Kurt (9/12/2015 5:03:00 PM)


    A wonderfully written poem, Luke. Thanks for sharing (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, September 11, 2015

Poem Edited: Saturday, September 12, 2015


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