In Shambles by Max Bouillet
and here we are merely upgraded cadavers
blankly staring at worn images of God.
staving off reality by consuming faith and flesh
with tapioca pudding and a thorazine drip.
discussing positive spins on our own bad press
while processing double mochas
and slivers of
bad conduct while crouched and licking
cheesecake off the Discover Card, choking
on bad credit (the itinerary of the productive coughs being solid morals
and liquid sex) and suffocating on semi-processed love
while the damn crows still write love letters and obituaries,
never delineating the difference between the two
and left to our own devices
we misconstrue the meaning until we find ourselves
loved to death, or in love with death, or dying to be in love
semi arid landscapes lend insanity a leg up
when theorizing about love, coffee, and credit
lets try harder to concentrate next time, huh?
yeah
yeah
yeah
in two parts we are conceived
in one part we depart in pieces we remain.10/30/2003 Author's Note: Ahhhhh?
Posted on 10/31/2003 Copyright © 2024 Max Bouillet
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Olivia Weinkein on 10/31/03 at 04:12 AM wow...you have blown me away. i love this. |
Posted by Don Coffman on 10/31/03 at 09:33 AM Bleak but fascinating, with a remarkably creative method of presenting a view of futility and shallowness. That's the thought I'm getting, anyway. :) Excellent poetry, with an especially nifty ending. |
Posted by Rachelle Howe on 10/31/03 at 02:29 PM this is my favorite, ever, and by far the most incredible/brilliant thing i've read in positively AGES. i love the duality. i <3 the ending. everyone should read this. everyone should memorize it and cherish it like a breeched child. |
Posted by Mara Meade on 10/31/03 at 03:54 PM Ahhhh. Straight to it. |
Posted by Kimberly Bare on 10/31/03 at 03:55 PM Sensational!!! This is hard hitting and has knocked the wind from me...Great Work! |
Posted by David R Spellman on 10/31/03 at 07:17 PM A potent and very thought provoking look at ourselves with this. Interesting form lending itself well to the title and concept of being in shambles - the broken pieces adding up to much more than the sum of the parts. And the ending... a real clincher. Excellent Max! |
Posted by Maryellen Lebeda-Parra on 10/31/03 at 07:56 PM WOW ... this is just to good! form a little hard for my dislexic eyes to follow ... but taking the time ... i appreciated it greatly! |
Posted by Laura Doom on 10/31/03 at 09:00 PM potd |
Posted by Michele Schottelkorb on 11/01/03 at 11:05 PM in two parts we are conceived
in one part we depart
in pieces we remain...
this stanza is incredible... as always your poetry forces one to think and imagine, with rich language and thought provoking topics... blessings... |
Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/03/03 at 09:21 PM Somewhere in this maze of mass confusion there is a truth! Some of us our dying for love. Some of us loving dying. Some of us our dead and don't know it. Some of us love and can't show it. Some of us are in pieces dead or alive. Now did that get me through this poetic maze dead or alive? *winks* :) You joustled a brain cell or two with this one! |
Posted by Ginette T Belle on 11/04/03 at 02:01 AM wow...sucked in by the first line...truly amazing writing |
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