Thunder Sandwich #26 - Damion Hamilton poetry

Trapped

Walking into the human traps

And the traps are all around

The military, the trap of school

The trap of women

The trap of a job or a career

The traps are omnipresent

The boys and girls are out there

Selling you things that you do not need

Credit cards, cars, mouth wash

Cheeseburgers, cigarettes

All around traps

With smiling faces and kick your ass strides

So many traps

One can't help but to walk into them

The trap of hard work, the trap of a good time

So many traps

One can't smell or hear the dogs

Like a fox

So we are not nearly as cleaver

And the fox holes are too small to hide in anyway

And one knows why men become hermits

And live in remote locations away from people

And those dangerous smiling faces

Those faces put one into debt

Those faces send you off to the battlefields of the world

Those faces put you in jail

Those faces will have you married with a job

For life

Those faces sell and sell and sell

As one sees the billboards on corners of everywhere

And remembers Sartre's words,

"Hell is other people."

Nowhere

I'm in the anteroom of nowhere

Moving through and breathing the calculus of nowhere

Blood doesn't even flow through my body

In the anteroom of nowhere; only water

My body is a discordant melody of aches,

In the anteroom of nowhere

The nearness of those around you seem faraway

In the anteroom of nowhere

It's as if their voices have been thrown by

Some pitcher of the state across a canal

In the anteroom of nowhere

Nothing grows, prospers, or ameliorates

In the anteroom of nowhere

Things only acclimate themselves to the soil

Of decay, in the anteroom of nowhere

There's only a low animal reaction to stimuli

In the anteroom of nowhere

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