poetry critical

online poetry workshop

Toccata Cheese

My heart it beats
faster than a woodpecker
pecks at wood
Faster than a barefooted slave
running from his owner.
Faster than the smalll hand on
my digital clock;
rotates at 360 degrees per 12 hours.
My heart has worms
my hair has perms
my crotch has germs
the worms
in my heart.
The perms perm
in my hair.
The germs germinate
in my crotch.
The small hand rotates on my
crotch watch.
The chickens in the den,
signal it's time for me to awake.
It was all a dream, it is time for me
to go to work
modeling my hands.

I experimented with rhyme in this one. This one really speaks to me. This also, will published in my books entitled, "Chickens in the Den--If You Don't Buy this, You're Racist." It will be out in May 2007

10 Mar 07

(define the words in this poem)
(6 more poems by this author)

Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha


This is going to be put into a book? You can't be serious. This poem makes no sense. What does chickens in the den have to do with anything? And the title. What's up with that?
 — unknown

You are simply to simple to understand this poem, I will not hold it against you.
 — Ajambo