
Grounding my body to feel down to earth,
planting my soles deep inside of the turf.
According to me I’ve been stressed since birth,
yet accordingly I’ve suppressed my worth.
If knowledge is power then power is dead.
The powers defeat then they creep to the edge
then pick up a sledge and inch to the ledge.
Swing with a pledge, kick out the wedge,
bury our heads six feet under the hedge.
Drizzle our bodies with seasonal dredge,
stoking the fires with urine and lead
until we are hired to work for the dead.
I am no liar, I roll with no tread.
Slick with the wit all my pendulums thread,
medical needles through radical people
all under the steeple until they are fed.
Me, I am not sick in the head,
I am simply a victim of pissing the bed.
"Too many liquids," the adults all said.
Add a lesson I was in special ed.
Adolescent confessions in watersheds.
Standing in sunlight until water-sheds
off of my body I failed at karate
for chopping the bodies until they all bled.
Blood on my body from talons and claws.
Cover my body with bondage and gauze.
She told me she’s pregnant, I told her to pause.
Two double lines and it equaled applause.
Standing ovation for probable cause.
I leaned on a pole while I read the new clause.
Fingers were bloody I needed new paws.
Flesh must be studied, we need some new laws.
Bones can be tough, I need some new jaws.
To save the planet then we need some new jobs.
Less humans and a little more dogs.
More balance and little less odds.
About the Creator
Kale Sinclair
Author | Poet | Husband | Dog Dad | Nerd
Find my published poetry, and short story books here!




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