UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
GLEN LANTZ

Shax (Babbling Ghost #44)

bone full/ dusty needle/ on the floor's/ familiar face/ lips moving/ faceless
motions/ all so meaningless/ crippled feelings/ socially stunted/ hiding in the
closet/ afraid of us all/ no more retribution/ no more deep thrust/ gone is the
illusion/ gone is the trust/ you fall forward/ striking a chord/ still in your
boots/ still breathing/ the trail of tragedy/ a dead man's eyes/ slowly opens the
blue/ once alive a thousand times/ now only pain/ burning the skin of love/ a half
delirious mind/ tumble into your deviations/ I wonder if you are still a thief/ your
sweet voice cuts like sugar/ it could always open doors/ razor blades and whiskey/
the dime bag hidden in your pocket/ your scores are all unreasonably high/

they question your sincerity/ your commitment to reaching the goal/ the heart's
unspoken fears/ are voiced by the crowd/ they surround you with torches and anger/ a
hunger for blood/ building up more and more dull layers/ they pile one on top of
another/ they fit together so perfectly/ it is true that misery loves its own/ you
blow me away with your thighs/ I don't know where to go/ after that/ we are faceless
in the crowd/ yet our hearts beat as one/ one scared and frightened animal/ our only
reward/ is each other/ and that is enough/


Vepar (Babbling Ghost #42)

a crumbling resistance/ it waits for me/ my mind's inner escape/ the fury that
holds/ a dangerous game/ it's killing me/ working each step/ all for the deceit/ a
leg up on the scale/ it's over/ no more chances/ all becomes shattered/ the voice of
ferocity/ it speaks of our distance/ an almost surgical strike/

I am all alone/ except for the angles/ they tell me it will be alright/ I know they
are lying/ they are not from heaven/ they are from hell/ they come for me/ bringing
twelve packs of beer, whiskey, blow, and hits of acid/ we fly together/ but we never
surpass the atmosphere/ never really reach the stars/

unfinished and abandoned/ shriek and song/ broken down confused tangle/ exhausted by
the unreal/ the pristine green/ it strikes back reducing/ monumental cubic wobble/
we make the noise until sundown/ as they turn their faces to the wall/ the first and
only half/ down staring clouds/ pounding fertile rain/ taking on the massive/ it
does not stand/ comes right through me/ to that far distant place/ hoping to find/ a
little heart/ the last porcupine/


Glen Lantz is 48 years old and lives in Dubuque, Iowa. He has a BA and a MA in
Sociology from the University of Northern Iowa. His work has appeared in 10K Poets
Zine, Bad Marmalade, Calliope Nerve, Clockwise Cat, the Curious Record, Deep Tissue
Magazine, Ditch, the Dubuque Area Writer's Guild 2009 Anthology Music & Dance, Full
of Crow, Heroin Love Songs, Lines Written W/ a Razor, Lit Up Magazine, Lost Souls in
the Fishbowl Anthology by Subculture Books, Madswirl, the Plebian Rag, Poetry Now,
and Zygote in my Coffee.

Glen has three poems forthcoming in Counterexample Poetics.

Glen's book "Boiled Tomatoes" is available as a free download at:
www.scribd.com/doc/16109158/Boiled-Tomatoes

Glen is co-founder of 10K Poets and the managing editor of 10K Poets poetry magazine
"Deep Tissue Magazine."

You can find more of Glen's work at: www.myspace.com/glenny_the_poet







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