(content warning) violence and futility

[billy]

this is a poem about violence
broken spines
and
severed heads
and
bloody torsos
shining by the light of the moon
like grotesque disco balls
and that...

how does one express futility
without defeating the object
of such a belief?

if you express you believe
that expression is good
that your words should be read

and isn't that a form of optimism?

still i continue to read
Cormac McCarthy
Patricia Highsmith
and the like

maybe we miserable fuckers
just like people to know
what miserabke fuckers we are

no line by line crit here.
it's a philosophical rant poem (i hate to see the words poem in a poem). though it's not too badly used in this one.
i loved the 'and that..' at the end of the 1st. it sort of made light of the non existent violence

the next two lines didn't do too much for me. maybe thats a good thing in a poem about futility

i love the way Cormac McCarthy and Patricia Highsmith were thrown into the pot. and it added to the last verse which is the tag line of the poem. they're really about self and work well. the 1st verse is hard to get to grips with but the latter part is a gem

jmo, thanks for the rad jack