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DEBBIE KIRK
Making A God Inside Building a statue Of my faith Out back I pay the rats By the dumpster Tree fiddy a day To collect Empty syringes Broken bottles And dolls with only one eye I’m constructing my own god My own savior All I want is for him to have gentle hands Maybe a secret handshake The good kind of secret That comes in a bottle of bubbles And sidewalk chalk. I know you will be going soon. While you are here, Will you please hold my hand? I can’t seem to breathe life Into the contraption Of truth I created those rats have my money And I just need somebody to hold my hand. The Obligatory Masturbation Poem Poetry Is The personification Of Masturbation Sitting at the typer Using well trained hands To touch all the right letters Spelling words Building sentences Constructing a fantasy That makes you temporarily forget Who and where The hell you are It takes an ego to write poetry And it takes an imagination to masturbate Especially consistency And I’ve recently begun to believe That consistency is an art. Playing with words Manipulating images in your mind Blood rushing through your veins Instead of blood rushing out Onto the floor. If you watch enough TV I think The urge to write Is slowly suppressed As is The urge to get off Everyone and Everything On tv Are perfect What makes the poem beautiful To me Is its imperfection. What makes masturbation beautiful To me Is that it takes less time Than writing a poem Having sex Or going thru the line up Of cable channels. Kill Your Television or it will… If you spend enough time With the television on You will eventually Become a homicidal maniac Or perhaps, That’s just me. The Jesus Bar My friend pete Wants to open A jesus bar. The waitress will wear Black leather nun bondage outfits I guess the dudes will dress like priests The menu with have Only wine and breads ”I’ll have the body of Christ with garlic…” And there will be token confessional booths So that you can steal someone away And lay down in dirt Behind the walls of cheap pseudo wood I said I thought that I should come in once a week And make an appearance as Jesus. All drunk and shit. I could go all GG Allin on it And wear a real crown of thorns If I’m presented with the double dog dare. I’d give out golden tokens For the jukebox Which will have only Black Sabbath Judas Priest And Stryper. For a few extra bucks I’ll place the bread on your tongue And say abbra caddabra These parlour tricks aren’t cheap, ya know Perhaps I’ll even barter For nails My white trash ticket To Disneyland Larger than life And Mickey Mouse Is the hugest fucking statue I’ve ever seen. And if you don’t have nails or money You can wash my feet And I’ll add you to the list. The Jesus bar, If I’m gonna play god I guess I better figure out What my motivation is. Debbie Kirk is the author of two chapbooks “Lost Words of Suicide Lovers “(Pink Anarchkitty Press), and “Valley of the Gallows” (Black Hoody Nation). She has been published in a number of online publications including the following: Babel Magazine, Mystery Island Publications, Impetus, Cherry Bleeds, Mystery Island Remark…a ‘zine of damn fine poetry, Lummox Journal, Foole’s Gold, The People’s Poet, Sex and Guts etc. She has also been published in a number of print ‘zines, to name a few: Failed Seeker, Fearless, Open Minds Quarterly, Transcendent Visions, and Austin Celebrity Profiles. She is the creator and editor for Pink Anarchkitty Press. |
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© 2004 Underground Voices |
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