Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions captured from poems overheard from Stone Soup's open mic readers and features. I started adding titles a couple of weeks back, though I'm still not sure what it will be until the next morning.
This poem was written during Emilio Phoenicio's feature at Stone Soup. This poem made for more fun than it did sense because we had a few new voices dropping unexpected angles. Props to Dolond, who was the last reader before me and gave me the idea for the equally nonsensical title.
Waiting for a Telephone Tag
You don't break, you snap
but stay together by my skin
like a sapling branch,
the only metaphor of youth
that still applies.
You may be free,
but you still feel chained.
We don't get trained like tigers
instead acclimated
as resting meat.
Behind bars,
Mother Teresa posters
hung ad nauseam,
tell us forgive, forgive, forgive.
Your spirit is a living thing,
and you've done all you can
to hold its breath,
refusing to will to life
what already is.
Meanwhile, Larkin and Bukowski
fight it out with your parents
over who is more fucked up,
breathing in each others
noxious gasbaggery.
You write a formula for silence
but pen on paper
gets in the way.
Special thanks to Steve Snyder, "Aspie" Chris Robbins, Rich Baydin, Johnny Flaherty, Martha Boss, Emilio Phoenicio, LUCCI, Chris Fitzgerald, Dolond and Jason Wright.
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