karl koweski

by Horror Sleaze Trash on April 30, 2012

Karl Koweski is the 342nd resident of Alabama to have read a book and he’s accomplished this feat 32 times. He’s published widely throughout the internet, small press, and porn mags. His alter ego The Polish Hammer hosts The Polish Hammer Poetry Hour sporadically. Archives can be found at www.blogtalkradio.com/karl-koweski


Nam hit the factory like a payload of napalm
setting libidos aflame and scorching
the jungle of conflicted marriages
with the incendiary heat
of sexual fantasy

Nam emerged from the office citidel,
the clean lineoleum oasis
populated with computers and polo shirts
where men with machine grease on their hands
were disavowed and unallowed inside

Nam collected paperwork from the shop floor
her hair black as smoke from burning tires
denim tight as a falcon’s hood
eyes alive with the hope of rescue
as she moved with the speed of shadow

Nam fell in love with a working man,
his sinewy arms leopard spotted with chrome,
ambivalent eyes always distrustful
entering a battle of wills
with no measure of victory available

Nam destroys every man eventually
succumbing to sexual battery
emotional confusion, financial chaos
an armageddon of broken promises
amounting to the best times of life

dishrag pathos

only a poet can make
death seem poetic

only a bad poet
can transform
a dead internet mistress
into an immortal muse

dishrag pathos
from dirty cyber laundry
from lonely facebook identities
and skype pussy

second hand platitudes
from the maw of obscurity

he claims originality
offering only
superficial nullity
skindeep nihilism

his mouth is
a bukkake
of better writer’s
poetic ejaculations

he wipes his lips
on the small press
and demands
you call it

the dogma of me

I am the altar
the gateway to divinity
you offer yourself upon

I am the man of no cloth
the self-perpetuating myth
the godhead of my religion
annointing the flesh
of my faithful
with holy secretions

I am a miracle of actions
a transubstantiation
of flesh to obsession
blood to eternal passions

I walk on water for you
and the water tastes like wine
once it touches your lips

I created the world you live in,
set forth the commandments
you abide by
instilled the conception of heaven
you strive for
and issued glimpses of eden
during nightly rituals

adore me
worship me
love me before all others
a love like the universe
infinite yet expanding
be the reflection of my image
and maybe
I will not forsake you
when circumstance
crucifies you
to whatever cross
comes your way

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