Green Grass
likely grass snake curled
forget the world, forget the
girl who just released
poem by Chris Bowen
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Avril Lavigne
my pink and green girl
the mall, looking people pass
heart throbs hurt, convince
poem by Chris Bowen
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Jack The Ripper In Blood
jack, jack, jack, jack, jack
tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick...
time, time, time, time, time
poem by Chris Bowen
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Razor
plays are hard when you dont receive your lines, i find, so is murder, when the victim knows the time.
poem by Chris Bowen
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Organize
rape in the grapes of wrath.wash away the evidence, take a bath.a path to an ooze, all i got to do, is pull out a knife and your my wife.the night, under a street light a guy ponders this.a woman walks by, worth a kiss.did she make it? yes.it wasnt rape in her eyes only her best.
poem by Chris Bowen
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People Magazine Report
paris hilton and her trillions.her men in the millions.you must be worn out from all the clubbing.you must be torn out from all the body rubbing.you ride in a limo and give reporters panty shots.i used to want to meet you with all i got.now i dont know about L.A.its so far away, just like dreams that seem to say, its too late to go and play.
poem by Chris Bowen
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Shrimp Festival Pocorn Shrimp
popcorn.a clowns horn.we, the forlorn love our adjourned.me to mourn the morn, when a trash man blows his horn.the torn banner and shrimp festival cantor, over for now, be back in the summer.what a bummer i need to bleed, summer rolls and summer feeds.look at me.did you succeed in daily winters? or are you a lover, a shrimp festival beginner?
poem by Chris Bowen
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Locks Of Hair
rabbit said i gotta have it.laugh it true, brett micheals do, a hair appointment inside of you.motley crue, your so fake, you couldnt pirate the great lakes.britney spears get over here.how many men do you hold dear? how many tickets have you punched? i never received dont give me one.paris hilton you are worse, your dew limo now a hearse.drew barrymore dont introduce, she just wants a republican truce.
poem by Chris Bowen
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Dirt Filled Curtains
the pain of art darkens.an angel harkens.a killer picks his choices.he still hears their voices.they say play in the field, the killing field, always was the deal.a silly green balloon filled with air of doom.to dragoons, dont bemoan the fact that you lack tact.you can have paris hilton back.she lacks the act of acts, my favorite bible book, in fact.be in the morning dew cause im after you.after two are murdered i wont hurt her mama, i got bills to pay, love obama.the stretcher carried the body, she was a naughty hottie, now the lot where she was found is shaded down, her case lay in the ground.
poem by Chris Bowen
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Halloween In April{for The Kids Of The Hall}
in a window, sat a pumpkin of light
to thrill the kids with fear and fright
to gaurd the candy, of halloweens eve
and prove that halloween, is no make believe
his grin was toothy, off and large
and you could see him from way, out in the yard
kids would walk by
but they wouldnt stop
there were safer places, to candy shop
but no matter where you were
in this new neighborhood
you could see that pumpkin
really good
framed by darkness of the shrill october night
his white hot candle, was the only night
but one brave kid, walking by
got too close
and could see the pumpkins eyes
and to this day
[...] Read more
poem by Chris Bowen
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