Louis E. Bourgeois
Eliyahu Enriquez
Connie Walle
Louis E. Bourgeois
.
.
Of Straw and Brick
I am the pig whose house was made of straw.
My other brother died last week in a logging accident.
My fat-ass brother with the big red house
Is still oppressing the villagers.
I spend most of my time trying to see the sun,
And figuring out what went wrong.
I only want a few things out of life:
A good fuck, a fat joint, and a place to rest my head.
The wolf changed all of that, but I’ve been thinking
I might find him and turn him against my brother.
Perhaps we could have a drink together
And figure out a plan.
(author retains copyright)
.
Of Straw and Brick
I am the pig whose house was made of straw.
My other brother died last week in a logging accident.
My fat-ass brother with the big red house
Is still oppressing the villagers.
I spend most of my time trying to see the sun,
And figuring out what went wrong.
I only want a few things out of life:
A good fuck, a fat joint, and a place to rest my head.
The wolf changed all of that, but I’ve been thinking
I might find him and turn him against my brother.
Perhaps we could have a drink together
And figure out a plan.
(author retains copyright)
Return
Eliyahu Enriquez
.
.
Honor Thy Sons and Daughters
I did not want to go.
They described a War on Terriers.
I was not scared.
They promised Lifetime benefits.
I did not want to die.
They ran a background check.
I found no weapons of Mass destruction.
They handed me an M16 rifle.
I got scared of drones.
They threatened to court-martial me.
I did not shoot.
They arrested me.
I was sent home, Without Honors.
They called me unpatriotic, Faggot.
I cried in the back seat.
They didn't expect IEDS.
Shrapnel tore my guts out.
They ordered the siege.
I was buried in the wrong grave.
They sent letterhead to my pregnant girlfriend.
I fought to keep it.
They said I gave my life.
I was censored from calling them liars.
They gave a statement on the local news.
I was ashamed of them.
They said they were proud of me.
Mom fainted.
They said my father would have also been proud.
I wanted to live.
They called me a Martyr.
I die an Artist.
They call me Soldier.
I am still.
Struggling.
(author retains copyright)
.
Honor Thy Sons and Daughters
I did not want to go.
They described a War on Terriers.
I was not scared.
They promised Lifetime benefits.
I did not want to die.
They ran a background check.
I found no weapons of Mass destruction.
They handed me an M16 rifle.
I got scared of drones.
They threatened to court-martial me.
I did not shoot.
They arrested me.
I was sent home, Without Honors.
They called me unpatriotic, Faggot.
I cried in the back seat.
They didn't expect IEDS.
Shrapnel tore my guts out.
They ordered the siege.
I was buried in the wrong grave.
They sent letterhead to my pregnant girlfriend.
I fought to keep it.
They said I gave my life.
I was censored from calling them liars.
They gave a statement on the local news.
I was ashamed of them.
They said they were proud of me.
Mom fainted.
They said my father would have also been proud.
I wanted to live.
They called me a Martyr.
I die an Artist.
They call me Soldier.
I am still.
Struggling.
(author retains copyright)
Return
Connie Walle
.
.
Should I Apologize
I know the curve of my breast
attracts your eye, my wet lips
when I smile, the smooth stride
of my step when I cross the room.
Is it my fault your breathing
becomes shallow, your palms sweat?
Do you hear voices from God
that I am evil? Do you fear me?
Is it my fault your rope found
my throat and you satisfied
your greed after I was dead
when I could not refuse you?
Should I have covered
my head with a babushka
worn long dark robes
instead of bright red lipstick?
Bio:
Connie Walle is President of Puget Sound Poetry Connection, which just celebrated its 20th year, and secretary for Tacoma Writers, founded in 1919. She is an advocate of poetry for the State as she forwards announcements of all poetry activities and events throughout the state, including calls for submitting poetry.
(author retains copyright)
.
Should I Apologize
I know the curve of my breast
attracts your eye, my wet lips
when I smile, the smooth stride
of my step when I cross the room.
Is it my fault your breathing
becomes shallow, your palms sweat?
Do you hear voices from God
that I am evil? Do you fear me?
Is it my fault your rope found
my throat and you satisfied
your greed after I was dead
when I could not refuse you?
Should I have covered
my head with a babushka
worn long dark robes
instead of bright red lipstick?
Bio:
Connie Walle is President of Puget Sound Poetry Connection, which just celebrated its 20th year, and secretary for Tacoma Writers, founded in 1919. She is an advocate of poetry for the State as she forwards announcements of all poetry activities and events throughout the state, including calls for submitting poetry.
(author retains copyright)
Return
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)