smoke image by Kerry Loewen.
even though you can't handle one more intoxicant
your body cackles
you say you are a poison(ed) clown
toxic self
toxic bubbles up
gurgles where you left your last breath
suspended over the nose
where you can't retrieve it.
a crown of smoke adorns your head
and all hail
all hail
the toxic one.
you can pull them up
you can pull them in
21st century allergic curses
bless and destroy.
your toxic enraptures.
another one of your poems that i can't quite grasp the meaning of, eluding me like the smoke it depicts ~ which only makes me more fascinated by it!
Posted by: becoming amethyst | May 15, 2007 at 03:31 AM
intoxication, to literally take in toxins. It's amazing how often people turn to their favorite poisons to get them through the day, the night, the weekend, the latest personal emotional rollercoaster. "I need a drink," they say (I've said), "I need a cigarette," (ditto), a nihilistic toast to their own dissolution, Aldous Huxley style.
but this is how we mutate. We take in these little poisons and still stand so we can feel sturdy enough to face the bigger poisons, the mental poisons that make people dead inside but leave their bodies to clock in, clock out, and shamble through the malls.
"To be sane in an insane society is to be sick oneself, and we live in a Plague Zone." - HP Lovecraft
I raise my glass to the poison(ed) clowns who build up their tolerances so they aren't poisoned by the world.
Posted by: Doktor Holocaust | May 16, 2007 at 05:19 AM
i love the sly repetitions...the self-mockery...
Posted by: bee | May 16, 2007 at 06:23 PM