I am constantly passed here, on this porch,
these faces just blobs, shape-shifters,
they have no idea who I am. And I
will never know who they were either.
(It doesn’t matter, so take note and dismiss,
find something else to think about.)
But such a thing is not easy to do when
the animal instinct kicks in. These kids
are not friends, they are fiends, dressed
in smiles, laughs, glares, whatever it is
that they think can keep them safe,
in this humid, festive Friday night.
I fear that some day, I won’t be able
to tell who is who, and I fear that
I will be counted among the lost,
robbed of my identity, my only sanctuary.
And I fear it will not be long in the coming.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
But seriously I love this poem, Kruppo. Feels like familiar inner-dialogue. And being fearful of being counted among the lost just may be the most vital and first preventative step.
I appreciate your input, infinitee.
I posted the total sum of my opinions/thoughts on kruppo's work.
I disagree that the post is a waste of space/time/ or anything.
After all, I took time to reply, and time is money.
I understand your point, however.
Quite simply, I am glad, if not honored, to have been able to read Kruppos work.
As far as what I liked, what I did not care for, what it meant to me?
I enjoyed being able to read it,
and stated as much.
I do not have the knowledge necessary to make any judgements either literarily or otherwise, so I have no critique or suggestions.
I stated all I felt necessary:
I read your work Kruppo!
Thanks for sharing it!
:)
If I share a writing,
and someone takes time to thank me for sharing,
that would most certainly be encouraging, I know.
That was the goal of my post,
to encourage Kruppo to continue to write and share.