Piñata [rev-5-18-13]

[billy]

First revision, May 18, 2013

Once I was an alien on my own planet,
things got much easier.

'It must be my religion',
I mused,
and dropped all of my books
to pick up candy.
When the last scrap of onion skin fell

there I was.

'It must be my innocence',
but what was left?
Pillage my skin and bone
but when I couldn't sleep
for the light shining through my
drape-less window

there I was.

'It must be my convictions!'

I mustered all my might to break free.
The mold that had grown
over my perception waned.
I blinked

and there I was.

Once, I was an alien on my own planet
but I didn't know it.

no line by line or red letters. but a lot of praise. i must have missed this bugger. i like the use of onion skin and how you strip yourself away throughout the poem, a layer at a time. the title also points to some kind of emptying. all that is left after it's all stripped away is the essence, in this case the base of the 1st person. it's a bit fuckin whacked out but that only adds to strengthen the fucker. lets face it someone's dehumanising or in retrospect trying to humanise them self by asking the questions; who am i, what am i, and very possibly if one's smoking the good stuff, why am i?

great write mark. you should join us more often