UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY


LUCIUS ROFOCALE

Dictator

In my suicidal years
suicide was my dictator
she excreted herself on the knobs of door handles and cabinets
even the openings of coke bottles
warmed the nocturnal sabotage of my dreams
luxuriating in the moon
late afternoon shops
chain-smokes
phone, flowers
even the warm fingertips and loose lips of assorted women.

Sometimes if
I chose swiftly and
randomly enough brief peace could be found in
cheap hotels …

but soon she would find
me
and the rotten cobwebs became the brightest thing in the room.


Lucius Rofocale was raised by wolves in the wilderness, but despite being ’rescued’ and indoctrinated as Homo-sapiens remains very feral. Lucius desires to attack cultural, social, religious and political Status Quo and have fun doing it. He can be reached at luciusrofocale@live.com







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