The Fuck

Who fucked it?
My generation?
Your generation?
The Who’s generation?
The ones who want salvation?
Who cares, really, who?
Michael Jackson & McDonald’s
And your goddamn stupid wedding
Fucked it.
Shit.
Every soul who didn’t stroll,
Got in a car or a plane instead of a train
FUCKED IT.
The barrista fucked it too,
Serving you.
Me and my booze fucked it.
Existentialist fucking analysts fucked it.
Fuck it.
I’m writing fuckalot.
Fuck that too.
FUCK ME
FUCK THEM
FUCK THE WHO
FUCK THE LIES
FUCK WHATS TRUE
FUCK LIFE
FUCK SUPERGLUE
No, really, we love superglue.
It binds shit together,
Just like it was new.
And sitcoms and sometimes
A trip to the zoo;
And movies and art,
That sometimes get through
To the part that thinks FUCK
And says “Hey, fuck you too.”

The Words

Where are the words?
Not the assonance alliteration,
Rhyme or repetition.
The fine words.
I mean the words to say out loud to you,
Words that might be true.
Though, they’re just opinion.
Probably.
I feel dumb.
Not allowed… by me.
Not able, face to face, to articulate.
An idiot.
Stupid and scared.
Where the fuck are those fucking words?