Poem#7 – Fuck.

I really started out following today’s prompt, which is amazing, but these marathon poems tend to have a mind of their own…




Too much knowledge

upsets the balance of time

You become an anachronism


Not that people would believe

your prophetic ramblings


Some found that out the hard way.


For example,

no one needs to know

with absolute certainty

what really happens

after you die


It’s like telling people

there’s a free five star hotel

around the corner from

your shitty ass pay-by-the-hour


Who the hell would stick around?


We all just came here

to fuck, anyway.

To touch feel see taste smell

something not so perfect

but perfectly


~ by Jacque on April 8, 2011.

3 Responses to “Poem#7 – Fuck.”

  1. Very true, Jaque.

  2. Thanks Tony, I appreciate the comment.

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