people aren't blank slates
when they're born
happily waiting to be filled up
rather they are wordless
tombstones pushed out of
the womb
mothers cradling
yet another grave-marker
in a birth blanket
not a chalkboard to be filled
w/formulas & philosophy
w/human horseshit
rather bloody
howling gravestones
& they spend their
lives slowly chiseling
their dumb names
into the slab
like they know
who they really are
what they really are
& maybe some etch
a cheap epitaph
a bald-face fabrication
HERE LIES SO & SO
& lies is fucking right
a rather appropriate verb
GONE W/THE ANGELS
row after row of
bullshit
nobody ever writes
the truth:
HERE ROTS A SACK
OF MEAT
ANOTHER FEAST FOR
CADAVER-EATING
BEETLES
& what will yrs say reader?
will you go down
into the ground
w/the rest
of the make-believe meat
a mute slab
of
LIES