Beau Sia
fantasy p
you crassly keep my imagination going.
in a bar your laugh
shakes
the sadness of why
everyone's really
there.
I want to stop your breathing.
I want you to cluck me
like you would a horse.
make me go
the speed you want.
make me the man
you need.
you won't change me,
you'll just get love
and new
year's eve kissing.
stop accidentally touching my thigh
unless you mean it.
and you don't have to
tell
me about other men-
I know
you're gorgeous.
my stare is more than listening.
it's intention
and
desire.
we need to fuck the old
that is creeping into
our system.
we need to be
here now.
and
that's why on Saturday
you will come to me.
without having read
this poem.
maybe it'll be
my man musk.
maybe it'll be
instinct
and revelation.
maybe it'll be
one last shot of whiskey
before we
hop into a cab
somewhere,
but you
will wake up next to me
smiling.
© Beau Sia
Beau Sia
"ny times"
if my life is what
reporters print,
will history be altered?
will the context of events
change
to fit the word count?
if my time in oklahoma
is documented
by someone else,
will obvious pain
be magnified
and actual pain
be
forgotten to
make the story juicier?
less challenging?
will i become
how i'm portrayed?
if 200 words
is all i'm known as,
will my poems
be based on that?
will i ever have
a better body of interview
for people to refer to?
do i have to
get working on
my memoir now?
how do i defeat
the intentions of others
to keep me in accord
with their agendas?
maybe you don't go
through this.
but you will.
the manipulation of ideas
and thoughts
has already begun.
and the marketing
of existence
is an easy goal.
and challenge is a dirty word,
so soon
categories will simplify
at the expense
of truth.
and soon you'll be asking
these same questions, too.
and once again,
i am writing for an audience. fuck.
© Beau Sia
Beau Sia
"xenog"
i don't know why
i make up words
that i don't know
the meaning of?
this is a poem
i feel like i have
to write.
while talking on
my cell phone.
so i don't give up
on writing.
i cannot give up
on writing.
no let down
should stop
what i need
to do.
and i need to
do this,
no matter what.
give me
some ginko baloba
or something.
i'm in a daze.
i'm losing my mind.
for no real reason.
what type of commodity
have i become?
© Beau Sia
Stephen Roxborough
A Lasting Peace
I want to make passionate war
inside your holy Middle East
Invade all your Biblical hot spots
trespass upon a wanting Bethlehem
divide every inch
of your Eden
and conquer your kinky Babylon
not with suicide terror or relentless tanks
or smart bombs or dumb skuds
or
nukes or chemicals or cruise missiles
but with a dangerous biological weapon
thousands of years old
yet young
and long and strong enough
to weaken your best defense
and move our innermost Baghdad
like a wild Arabian stallion
in
the heat of a mad desert tryst
Only then will I surrender and submit
to all your conditions and positions.
