Home: Poetry: Michael P Smith: Fuck Faust
 
 
 
This is me, to be chosen…

I DON'T WANT THIS.

I don't want anymore magazines
I don't want anymore women
I don't want drugs
leave the beer.

TIME TO READ.
TIME TO WANDER.

I need the world to get out of my face.
I need fourteen fisherman to stop trying
to draft me.

Faith is in oneself.
No truth.

Reason is stuff
pig on a ramp
waiting.

Pain-love knows nothing.
Bibles are no different than badges.
>From the heart grows a peach tree
I hang on the wall.

(No one suffers too much.)

Bleed creative effort; green is my favorite color.

Murder is God revealing Himself through us,
suicide bravery dreaming wealth.

Heaven is as well as Hell?

Fuck Faust.
Death to those who believe war is obsession,
humanity
flung
like sand
at a mirror.

 

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