Fred Aiken Writing

Category: Poetry

October 3, 2022

Why I Can No Longer Read Newspapers

world on fire

gas prices skyrocketing, house bubble, mortgage trouble, interest rate hiking the trail of tears

spelled miles apart,

ripped asunder and kids dying and old folks dead without knowing

and guitars, bleak in the summer heat, being bent over background

as the fires rage and engulf and consume the sky, dirt, sea, and stars,

spent miles apart and yet everything’s contracting

and coming back

as stock tickers decimate capital as riots churn through the streets,

but don’t say that word,

or that word,

or think that thought,

or that ideology,

or that religion,

or that feeling,

dress up as a socialist while rehearsing Macbeth in Korean in

the middle of Times Square to warn everyone of the impending doom, gloom, and broom

coming to sweep through the land

the fire

the glistening kiln to get just the right glisten as the thoughts peel back

and fumble through broken muscle trying to trudge through peaks in valleys

plateauing to the last remnant of ink, paper, word,

dig it

September 25, 2022

Unread Goals

I hope to one day become the most premier unread writer/poet. Seems like an achievable goal. All I need to keep doing is not be read by anyone…or at least not by many people.

It’s quite a simple process, too. All I do it write continuously, post it online, and no one reads it. I don’t have to do anything to the writing either. No social media promotion (not that I have any social media). No random list. No promises of making people rich, or beautiful, or whatever else people envy after.

It might seem like a dumb idea, but I was always told to set myself apart to get noticed. Though if I do ever get noticed and people start paying attention to me, then ultimately I’ve failed and I was never really good at achieving my goals.

Though being a poet, being unread and unheard of is par for the course.

September 10, 2022

Tunnel Gold Fish & Chips

if i stuck my head into every crevice

would i discover all of life’s mysteries,

or would i find something i didn’t want to find

sitting at the end of the tunnel,

staring back at me,

menacingly,

snoring,

waiting for me to give it some gold fish,

before realizing we’re both vegan