Monday, February 4, 2008

Tarzan.

(I was censored from a writing website, I replied)



You call this a jungle?

All I see is grapes,
withered and bittered
and whining wallflowers,
drooping and soft.

No canopy collective,
just aged invective,
narrow,
blind,
fucking
ten years
behind and
hiding
you hide
in your bush
sniffing out
the cans
and
the
can't.

The Hunter,
or say you say.

The Murderer,
I call you.

And baby,

you're right.

I am a Gorilla.

The Ape.

Beating my chest,
and screaming

MY

words.

MY

language.

WHAT I WAS TAUGHT
WHEN I WAS TIED
AND BEATEN
BY HANDLERS
INSIDE A FUCKING CAGE

AND MY BROTHERS
AND SISTERS
AND
MY MOTHER
WERE HELD DOWN
AND RAPED
AND TORTURED

but that doesn't matter to you,
does it?

Because,
we must not use,
the nasty

word.

We
simply

can't.

Can we?

You can't.

1 comment:

  1. There's grapes like that in the beer garden at bar open...swears...

    ReplyDelete