The Selfish Poetry of my 1000 Years (On a Wooden Shelf)

bookshelf selfish poetry

It was brilliant in the individual woe:
no surprise in waking and faking,
no publication of the beggar’s throw;
just the succumbing to inner shaking

Fuck! the blanket (say hi to the day)
Emotion to revolution to evolution (?)
No soul gutting and people fray
(rather a giving to the needing of raped occupation)
Take a sentence to create and pray
(indiscreetly invest applause)
Be sensitive to Art
Have an acid lay
Kidnapped! pause … birth to cause?
Disdogmafy, include longing, criticise
(so cruel to insist that I exist)
Non-committal pigs, why should I apologise
when the me in me persists?
I’ve no desire for rental fear
(rather rear it and drink a beer)
Sanctuary is in protective behaviour;
washed, commercialised, never here

The distance to together is hope
How low? is the distance to me

One, ten, one thousand years, forever
They thought me so clever … (yet)
I’d sacrifice for dirty lips,
a give-up to a pleasure sip.