Friday, May 22, 2020

The Departed. By Angela M. Carter


 You ever know from the get-go you wanted to fuck with the world?

If the day wants me sober, I drink. If it commands I sit down
I stand up and straddle. 

Being obedient is for the dead. 

The departed are everywhere. Machines driving automobiles. Instruments untuning their arresting chaos
with the gluttony of monotony.

Their lifetimes a game
of hide-and-seek-of-self. 

There’s more chance of breaking when you are truly living. And I’m in a million pieces. But I want

to feel
to be enthralled and bewitched so my heart escapes my skin. 

If someone cuts it open, it only expands.






Angela M. Carter is an author, poet, novelist, motivational speaker, spoken word performer, visual artist and an advocate/activist. Her first collection, Memory Chose a Woman’s Body (unbound CONTENT, 2014) is a poetry memoir, which spotlights the effects of the silences endured after abuse, neglect and depression. Angela is a 2014 Pushcart Prize nominee, nominee for the 2015 Virginia Library Literary Award (poetry), and has been featured in a multitude of venues, including The KGB Club in Manhattan and Busboys and Poets. Her publications include Silver Birch Press, Deep Water Literary Journal, Whurk, Vox Poetica, the Plath Poetry Project, Premiere Generation Ink, City Lit Rag, The Word Ocean, Worst Week Ever, Our Stories Untold, Gutsy Living, and several anthology publications. She is an advocate of the healing ability of the arts. www.angelacarterpoetry.com

1 comment:

A Suburb of Myself By Dan Provost

  I failed the beer philosophy of hidden pain, tried to twist tears with artistic motivation--- Exchanged drinking rights for lawnmower cho...