There is a longing in my heart for something skunk in past

I see some vague faces in my hallucinations

Who were those homeless, hipsters and hobos on streets?

Talk no more of homo Sapiens but homo Sacer’s or Bare life “Unworthy to live”

Listen to the songs of drunken white boy Billy on 22nd street

Smoke some sacred marijuana handed down by a negro near a strange house’s porch

Where is that pony tail? Find him or curse him out he ain’t gonna change

Somewhere near the store, I wrote these lines and make a poem in quest of a longing to belong

Where do the poets belong?

If not the human race but to art alone

To “Art” alone which possesses the inalienable rights of man