Subversion Poetry

Jesus didn’t spend time serving at the local soup kitchen,

He was the soup kitchen, broth for blood and saltines for flesh,

He said “Let whoever is without sin cast the first stone”

Yet you cast some gravel at homeless man’s Heroine drip

Look at that! You exclaim

He is cold, he is dirty, he is sad, and he is maimed

He needs some food, a drink, a smoke, a warm place to stay

So you walk on by, waiting for the Sally Ann to pick up your slack

Yeah you, this poem is for you!

Your idea of service sounds more like provincial employment

1 guy working and the rest waiting for coffee break, cheering him on

Yeah you, this poem is for you!

Take off your nice sweater and your shoes

Check your pornographic mind at the door please

Because all of your secrets are as bad as his needles

Yeah you, this poem is for you!

Fuck your American dream!

Your pants are bursting at the seams!

Your fat rolls down the street,

Like a brand new 2011 gold-plated Lexus.

Yeah you, this poem is for you!

Raise your golden-arched pitchfork in a sharp salute!

Wave your shame stained pillow cases like national flags!

Sing the national anthem, Lady Gaga Featuring queens and drags!

Babylon’s whore has stabbed your imagination

Into a leftover gutter, pierced by her carbon stiletto

As she puffs on child-labor-cigarettes,

her smile sells You the smoke and her breasts sell the rest

She’s riding a ten horned limo,

Crowns of oil around each one,

And on each crown are lists,

Of soul’s that she has won

Yeah you, this poem is for you!

Bow down and praise!

Fill your mind with media horseshit

The whore will satisfy your gaze

She coats her mouth in bloody lipstick

Ground up processed children,

Who made those shoes,

Sitting in your closet

Her eyes are powdered with gunfire residue

Golden bullet-casings decorate her barbed wire hair

Her teeth grind the minerals from foreign soil

Her breath smells of abusive alcoholics

She has manicured nails and flawless, irreplicatable skin

Bulimic stomach powdered to godliness

And photoshopped muscles to aesthetically please

Her grin invites you, Her wallet entices you

Her hand will stroke where you want it to,

Her speech is loud and subtle,

And she is everywhere.

She is in your living room,

Your computer,

Your cellphone,

Your head,

Your bed,

Your wallet,

Your shed,

Your food,

Your life.

Yeah you, this poem is for you!

The whore is at the door,

Bringing you begging for more,

Will you whet your appetite?



Sweet drips from tip to page,
The mind is rage,
Ink well, summer blue
Not quite empty, not quite through.

I have visions of you,
Sitting in your room,
Arms folded and eyes widened,
Sleep deprived, you’re hiding

Away from your family,
Away from your friends,
I wish I could hold you,
But Time must amend.

I pray for your safety, I pray for your love, I pray arms surround you from high up above.

I am far away,
My voice is now mute,
Across the deep water,
I am far removed

How Can I Take Up My Mat And Walk?

How can I pick up my mat and walk?

For so long you were the sand beneath my toes, telling stories to these blinded eyes in brail and pebbles. Now everything is you: My mattress speaks of times in each others arms, my music strums chords that echo into my stomach and churn the acid. My glasses and my hair, this whole person I have become and who I really am. They are all you now. You never had a knack for timing and now was the worst time.

How can I take up my mat and walk?

My Friends

Justin Koop

April 5, 2009

My Friends

I see two coins

Flipped from hands that demand

We sell all we have to grab at them

And spend our time and our energies

Wading through wanted ads, and saving pennies

To buy that fourteen passenger van

To haul our happiness to the landfill

Just to fill it up again

My friends have hearts of ether

That can pass through the hands that try to keep ‘em

And stones that try to beat ‘em

And they speak words of peace

And wisdom in age where old people are caged

In disrespect and their own bodies to decay

I dedicate these words to the people who have heard

The news and want to cry every time

A woman loses her baby to her own selfish pride

I dedicate these words to people who see that objects decay

And that happiness is just a simple step away

People who sing words like “Our guns: We shot them in the things we said

Ah we didn’t need no bullets cos we rely on some words instead”

Because although they may not fully understand

His love, and where it comes from

They’re on the right path, learning fast

Welcome, my friends let us forgive one another

Let us smile at the sun and dance by the moon

Let us stay silent in a moment of grief

And just be.

Let us only speak if the word is truth

Let us snip the world’s noose

My friends and I, see the green in life

And it’s not money or cash, its the grass

That grows, that lives underneath our backs

As we stare at the sky that will always stare back


Grains moving slowly
Ever sinking, moving only

Hips can imitate

Their movement as they sway

Devils twist on by
stinging in my eyes

A dress is twirling
its four sweet edges curling

It has waves
like a volume’s many pages

That wink
In pretty shades of pink

I hear: clap of heels

Sound draws on and reveals

a melody
moving feet

Sliding eyes,

Hunting wrists,

Moving on,

Moment’s gone.

© Justin Koop, SKYDB Studios and Justin Koop Writing Factory, 2009-2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Justin Koop and Justin Koop Writing Factory with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.