I wallow under bridges
connecting towns
to the whole of humanity.
I search for a God there
in the empty darkness.
Not even the bums move.
Nobody is disturbed by my presence.
I see only muddy water
I cut myself
I watch myself
bleed—the water turns red—
I part the sea
Mud oozes between my toes
I am a basket-case, like Moses
I reach into the soil, and make my own god
a formless
disgusting
creature
that doesn’t smile
and stinks.
Love is that red and brown color
I have put my life into.
The whole town knows,
the bums belong under the bridge
the whores belong in the brothel
the students belong in the school
the good people belong
and the bad people belong
Nobody is out of place
but me
I am tested by society
the suicide stands at the top of a tall building
contemplating jazz
the drug addict would rather know the needle
than their next-door neighbor.
If love is an art,
most of the world is ugly.
I listen to a sermon
and I hear a different one
inside my head.
Thank God.
excellent words 🙂
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Thanks, Art Hernandez! Sometimes, I wonder about those words, and where they come from.
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they come from the soul 🙂
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Yes! Very True! Thanks for reading and commenting Art Hernandez!
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Nice and heavy.
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Yes, this poem was inspired by a poem I read by Sherwood Anderson. I read it to my friend. He told me that he thought the writer was crazy. I loved the poem.
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Some really vivid and hard images here.
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