Poems:
Jim Phelps - Poetry
Rise
and Shine Its time to wake up
Come on now
The apocalypse has been postponed again
No matter how hard they advertise it
It just seems that they cant get anyone interested in attending the damn thing
Good morning
Its time to wake up
Lets get going now
There are many things to do
We need to do
All those things that need to get done
Its over whelming
Really it is
Time to go
Time to get up
Get out
Get going
Get with it
Good morning
Its time to wake up
The death whores are trying to kill us all
Loving has been treated as sin
Revenge has become sacred
We need to take our place in the blood orgy
Get out there quickly
Beat the traffic
Beat it down
Beat it to the ground
With the lead pipe of impatience
Wake up
Wake up
The machine needs fuel
The rivers crave blood
Lets go buddy
Time is a wasting
Good morning
Its time to get up
You cant push the snooze button now
Its too late for that
Its too late for a lot of things
The machine is calling your name
The empire is reclaiming what it never lost
Calling in the soldiers
Calling in the reserves
Calling in the recruits
Calling in the slaves
Gladiators and sluts for your entertainment
Keeping it real
Keeping it unreal
Keeping away from truth
Keeping out of the danger of change
Keep away
Game on
Here we go
Good morning
Its time to wake up
Its time to end time
Its time to move beyond this
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up!
I couldn’t sleep this morning
Tired
Been drinking all night
Book club got rowdy
Noises all morning
Pounding and sawing
My head
And the worker outside
He’s building a fence
I embrace the noise
Learn to appreciate it
Accept it as my fate
And sleep
Not despite it
But because of it
Suddenly the noise stops
The builder of fences
Has become
The eater of lunches
And the silence wakes me
This is life
Just when you figure out how to swim
They empty the pool
And you drowned
Has anyone told poetry that it is dead?
It seems so unwilling to accept this
Fallen heroes drink for blindness
Unable to deal with what the eyes see
Unable to accept the future
Drink
Drink and blur the world
No need for focus
When all you can see are
Plastic replicates of forgotten truth
Poetry has died
And the world has ignored the passing
The people too lost to care
No one mourns
The readers have vanished
The listeners fled
And the poets are too busy writing
To realize that it is dead
Well the presidents a dick
And the last one had his sucked
I can sympathize with that
Anyway
She was fat
I’m terrified
Of the future
I’m terrified
forgotten past
How long can this last?
Bring back
That fat slut lover
He wasn’t so bad
He wasn’t so small
He had no axe to grind
No vengeful dad
And nothing to prove at all
"The world is my ash tray"
The man says
Stepping on his tossed cigarette
Squash
Seconds later a sudden earthquake erupts
Many die
Including that man with the cigarette
Killed by a falling two ton gargoyle
Squish
He becomes food
For ants
Worms
Maggots
And for the first time of his existence
He serves a purpose
Swallow
Well Fuck!
You know what I mean.
It's all just a big fuck.
Straight in the ass,
no lube,
no mercy,
not even a thank you
War! Good God Yall
what is it good for?
The slimy shit is hitting the cosmic fan
and it stinks more then anyone wants to admit.
I see shambles around me.
I see waves crashing from all sides.
I see doom in the propaganda eyes.
All three of my eyes are open now
I see it wide and clear.
This machine is built on fear,
and powered by hate.
Yea it's a big fuck in the ass,
but I'm not bending over mother fucker!
Not now!
Not ever!
What we taste
We feel
We know to believe in
Is what we remember
The soul knows everything already.