Deadbeat
Dinner Party
TA Harrison
Madness of Mortality
We bathe in the madness of mortality Naked Lathered in excess Sopping wet with greed Soaking in the death and the suffering Of women and children Adorning ourselves in their skin Their flesh becoming our status symbols At least until the seasons change And the fashions shift And we kill again And again And again Until finally we ourselves die At least physically Because emotionally we’ve always been lifeless All of us Born dead between the ears Zombies craving only popularity Consuming anything appealing Anyone capable of changing our status We scavengers Shitting the art and the style of others Of those fortunate enough to have actually lived To have spoken directly to God And whose blood we must wash in To stay as young as possible As viable as we can be In the eyes of all the strangers we pass Whose judgment matters more than living
Idols of Our Past
The idols of our past no longer smile upon us Their blessings and magic have gone And all that’s left is consumption and legal pills Priestesses and potions of a different religion One with a hand over each and every mouth Quieting our prayers of supplication Forcing a whisper in the cathedrals and mosques But shouted from the pages of 1000 websites 100000 tweets and 1000000 blasts of cum The romantic secretions of the walking dead The emotional zombie class we used to call middle Used to call upwardly mobile But who now just sit and fuck and consume and die Leaving an every thickening slim layer behind A directional trail or deviant map for the next generation But at least it's something to follow Since the voice of God has abandoned us And the lights of a vibrant future have gone dark
Thrones of Detritus
This is our place Our time The moment in history where we Royalty of a petit bourgeoisie Rule the world The Gods of earth's final hour Kings and queens of squander and boredom Sitting gloriously upon thrones of detritus Our bodies covered in costume and forgery Our hands filled with the jewels and gold of this era Shiny Shimmery Faux luxurious things that confuse the ape in the tree As he watches the earth burn And our bodies decay And our minds erode into a fine silky powder Blown any which way on the winds of trend and status Creating a dust storm of conformity and compliance The very storm that will kill us all
Poised for Destruction
We covered truth with modernity Extinguished romance with innovation and progress Our eyes are no longer filled with reverie But with disease disguised as aspiration With the toxic dreams of a people Of a civilized group of prisoners Poised for destruction Standing stoically in a field of broken glass Barefooted Bleeding But dancing the dances And singing the songs The rhythms and words of our very oppression Smiles across every face And bullshit filling every eye
Olympia, WA
This city is full of sad girls on roller skates Tattooed and annoyed trash babies Cutters Drinkers Radical fighters of all types Shuffling around in thrift store fashions Watering house plants Too many house plants And too many cats At least for her studio apartment The one above that tarot card reader Where she buys her crystals and her incense Physical items connecting her to the spirit world To the universe That's what she says anyway Between tokes and shots and tears Her bare feet stretch out on a yoga mat Braless breasts swinging as she talks Moves and talks And twirls Dances around that tiny apartment singing about art About books and obscure bands About the future Before collapsing into my arms A smile upon her face Knowing we’ll make love tonight And in the morning And then I’ll leave But only for awhile Only until she starts singing again
TA Harrison is a writer on the autism spectrum. A world traveler, a veteran of combat, the product of an impoverished Midwestern home; TA has lived the life his poetry beautifully paints.
Black Stone / White Stone 