TA Harrison


Dinner Party

TA Harrison

Madness of Mortality

We bathe in the madness of mortality
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
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
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
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.

Interview with TA Harrison