Sunday, August 8, 2010

Two poems by Tarik Linthicum

The stupid things I say

I'd like to be a corpse, riddled with bullets. A martyr for a cause
yet unknown; my body slouched over
in a trench, covered in sweat, blood and piss.
Posthumously they’ll call me a hero, I'll have honor
etched into my grave. Here lies
non-descript male #210510321.

Eyeing the dying of the light through mortar shells and hand grenades.
A perfect punctuation, I say.


I presume

Golden luminescence, effervescent, against
the jettisoned moon. The tides carving candles
out of dim dancing fools. The foolish
following followers who follow the footsteps of
followers. How hollow
their sorrow rings. Yet, I bring.

I remember you with cotton-candeyed mirth, ours
was a sugary confection at birth, children
who were we to think that our love could light the earth.

Naive and on the brink of sinking, I’m quietly thinking of winking at you.
I would offer you a rose, but it would do no good. Simply an allusion
to an illusion that still

Author bio:

Tarik Linthicum is a poet residing in Philadelphia, PA. He adores pets, moderately dangerous activities and sometimes other people.

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