can’t
call 9-1-1
nothing’s
been done
spinning
rhymes is not a crime
being
at a bus stop
doesn’t
mean you’re going somewhere
some
sit and stare
cause
they have nowhere to go
use
to be a pay phone in a hallway
was
for every apartment
their
connection to the outside
neighbor
would answer
pound
on your door
“it’s
for you!”
they
kicked me out of the brothel
i
just wanted the girl to hold me
while
she sang, “everybody hurts”
by
r.e.m.
the
set designer hated me
every
five minutes i changed the scene
nothing
was green
even
though that was the name of the play
tried
another brothel
said
they would oblige
then
took turns holding me down
and
spanking me
singing
at the top of their voices
“everybody
hurts sometimes”
charged
me double
and
threw me out
laughing
as they threw my clothes
after
me
walking
past graffiti art
my
shoes fell apart
the
salesman’s voice
knew
i had no choice
and
charged me all the cash
i
had on hand
all
i wanted tonight
was
to work things out
in
poem therapy
this
desire inside of me
diluted
by whiskey
to
be dominated by a girl
yeah
i got my spanking
i
got several
still
i linger
wrap
around one finger
summoning
me to bleed
for
her need
all
my lovers hate my poetry
in
fact they’ve never read a word
remain
unheard
onto
empty pages
in
empty rooms
i
scream
it’s
better not to dream
cause
dreams are the dance
of
disillusionment
the
journalist is in court
to
report
the
justification
of
my sentence
they
said i lacked repentance
love
is never a victimless crime
poets
and their rhymes
is
a life sentence
and
this poet asks too much
he
thinks his taking is
legalized
by giving
another
idiot who cares
in
an uncaring world
believes
in empathy
confused
by the lack
of
sympathy
when
he confesses
draining
another pen dry
inventing
teardrops when he cries
wondering
why
alcohol
accentuates what you’re feeling
otherwise
you’re as silent
as
something stalking its prey
everything
runs away
when
you make a noise
everyone
thinks vampires are wise
because
they have lived for so long
but
when you reach a certain age
you
realize a sage is not made by knowledge
and
the final conclusion of knowledge
is
you do not know enough
to
ascertain
which
is why you just go
outside
and have another cigarette
everything
is about your debt
for
the accident of your birth
you
were an unplanned pregnancy
and
to this day no one really wants you
unless
you can convince them
it’s
in their better interest
to
be inconvenienced by you
life
is the misery of paying dues
never
be you
this
is not an acceptable payment
it
leads to an arraignment
and
you are discarded
no
matter how much melon
is
left on the rind
think
for yourself and expose
the
emperor has no clothes
who
are you to usurp his authority
such
deplority
will
bring a rain of derision
so
make a decision to endure
pretend
you are pure
while
you numb the nether reaches
of
your mind
with
whatever you can find
smile
and nod
you’re
not odd
everybody
else is a fucking idiot
everything
you believe is only perceived
therefore
everything you believe is biased
and
a lie
there
is nothing wrong in a helping hand
but
are you helping when you demand
that
a person will only know joy
when
they deploy your
line
of thinking
anyways
back to my point
and
the reason i wanted to write today
this
is the dark streets of decay
the
bay in which i want
to
anchor my ship
is
within a relationship
that
is equipped to supply
my
understanding of love
love
being defined by that
in
which the me i be is accepted
but
pounded into the obliteration
that
is my mind
if
this you can find
do
everything you can to destroy it
rage
against the quip
that
one size fits all
it’s
a blowup doll
that
can’t give you what
you
really need
because
it doesn’t exist
so
maintain and persist
that
whether open hand or fist
you
want to be struck by love
that
only you have defined
***
No comments:
Post a Comment