Fred Aiken Writing

Tag: Poetry

blender on the highest setting

i’m full
but still hungry,
though sometimes i mix up my feelings
in a blender on the puree setting

a non-cry-for help statement

this is not a cry for help,
because i don’t need help, at least not right now,
maybe check back later,
but for now, i’m good, i promise

my xmas poem; i hope it doesn’t sound too sad

suicide looks festive when using xmas lights,
green, blue, red, and white,
while dressed as a depressed santa
overfed from rum-soaked ham with a side of yams 
coated in fermented cane syrup left in an anaerobic barrel
for 3 weeks prior to this,
oh glorious,
of days passed down by tradition,
to be passed out while screaming at the television
for the little uniformed men
to perform uniformed movements,
as demonstrations of athletic prowess
feel forced but necessary,
forced into the necessary,
excessive, obsessive, desultory