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| July 1998
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This page copyright 1998 The Shrubbery |
Poetry PageTerra cotta skin looks slimy when it's wet she said. Why? I said. Because it's WET she said. I couldn't keep my cheeks dry, its bare orange skin, Raped. Lines scanning from neck to ass. Putrid. What? she said. Putrid!! I whaled Ignored my cry Her mind numb from whipping the paste. Spread it on thick she said, It looks better that way Yes, looks great, pressing the black seeds into the scars. neck to ass neck to ass ass to neck ass to neck GrrrrrrrrrrrAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! PUTRID! The whole body fit perfectly in the palm of my hand. The orange skin on blue sky, very complimentary. Cheese n' crackers. Splither, CRACK shattered and scattered on the brick of her house. PUTRID. By Kelly Porter I know I'm just a teenager, about to turn 71 years old. Any day of the week, ll'I wager, that I'll up mix hot and cold. My freinds lal think 'Im stupid, Ym mmo says I'll read soon. Teh raeding tutor says "put a on it lid" strangers thnik I'm a fckuing loon. I know don't what lexdysic means, Maybe I'll read about it eventually. But for now, I'll try to count beans. one, xis, ereht. Waht you do mean "silly"? someweek, I'd kile to eb alnorm. Why laugh they do me at I shout? Oh, Uh, cemos hree a storm. Lightning! Go I do inside or out? By Frank Volny Fields of tire tracks forced into the ground like barbed wire into prickly skin It is cold and shimmering like snake's skin Powdery and fleshy white film covers my eyes They are dilated and still, with no remainer of release Black lace wrapped around the slowly tapping drift of fingertips Silence consumes my lust for ever waking breath By "Stella Folds" Floundering like a leaky boat, suspended in the stillness of frozen psychotic madness My ears are a time bomb, ready to explode It conjures upunforgiven wounds And written works only to devise a reckoning day An armageddon of substance awaits And the boat sinks into potently subdued encrusted waters By "Stella Folds" Steel cold bars to scratch out intake Kicking over pill bottles like garbage can banana peels Slickness shimmers over the throats and the mouths The stare into philosophy leaves materials overturned Vitamin knockoffs complain of a good gouge in the stomach Beckoning sugar coated lies from stereo feedback Some sort of savior reaches into the dusk Some madness tells why it never really hurts Sonic-stretched over some 14 miles down the road Head lights passing over an evasion Chemical imbalances over arm wrestling Held in the pubs of economic slavery By "Stella Folds" Do you have poetry?Send it on in! It can be romantic, heart-warming, humorous, or epic--we dont care! But if it makes the cut, you'll see it in the next issue of The Shrubbery. E-mail it to submit@theshrubbery.prohosting.com |
