I have spent a lot of time in poetry focused writer’s groups. These are mostly populated by people who for some inexplicable reason love the writing of Whitman, Ginsberg, and the like. When I get my turn to share my work and hear critiques, these folks generally have only one thing to say, which is something along the lines of, “Just say what you feel, man! Just write what you feel! It’s all about what you feel, man!!” Well, alright, at the moment, this what I feel, man!
nose hairs
they stand in line
stiff and stark
rank and file
on the march
merciless soldiers
raised from hell
heft their siege
in endless swell
rifles raised
with bayonettes
they stab their way
with no regrets
shooting always
toward the brain
with deadly force
unfailing aim
for each one pulled
from out the race
a dozen rise
to fill their place
marching always
on the brain
marching till i
go insane
