Little Pills
by Larry Rochelle
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Not rated by the Author.
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Little Pills
awash in rain,
our cars slow down,
stopping at intersections
till babies crawl across,
staying between the white lines,
all the while our feet
pulsate on gas pedals,
anxious to push
on to the pharmacy
where white-clothed graduates
count pills into brown flasks,
slap labels
with our names,
in ink;
in essence we become
junkies waiting for laxatives
and pin-up girls,
promised by scientists
sprightly smiling,
knowing what we’ll
be doing that night.
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| Reviewed by George Jackson |
12/19/2004 |
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| Dunno why, but I felt like I was reading a poem about Viagra. Whatever the case, this is exceptional. |
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| Reviewed by Tinka Boukes |
12/19/2004 |
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Powerful truth in this one!!
Love Tinka |
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| Reviewed by ~ Chanti |
12/19/2004 |
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Larry,
As disturbing as these words are, there is a ring of truth in them. One of the purposes of a poet is to open the eyes of the world. In this you have achieved your purpose. Well written!
Chanti |
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| Reviewed by J. Wise |
12/18/2004 |
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| Hell yeah. I agree with everything you've said here. That's also why I steer clear of anything that even hints at doctors, medication, hospitals, etc... |
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| Reviewed by Tami Ryan |
12/18/2004 |
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| Powerful words, these. |
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| Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner |
12/18/2004 |
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(((larry)))
prescription: reading your words
and i know they won't be harmful to my health :)
this is exceptionally astute and truthful.
"...in essence we become
junkies...." BAM--SPOT ON!!!!!!!!
(((HUGS))), love and merry Christmas, karla. :) |
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