Poetry

May 24, 2017

 

For Buck

I am tired of their
Smiling faces,
Their happy white teeth.
I am sick of hearing
The hallowed problems of the perfect.
My rejected genes
Are about to howl.
There was no law,
Only dominance
Only survival.
You’ve outlawed my shot
To make it fair
For the weak.
I grow so tired
Of watching you
Be given your shot,
Only to fuck it up with a grin.
Then be given one after another.
The only shot I’ve been given was
A shot of whiskey,
A shot to my fading vein,
A shot at certain failure,
Soon
A shot to the side of my head.
To have to hear your stupid fucking voice
Cry like a child
I’d just as soon be dead.
How many times can a man be told no
Before he just begins to take?
After all aren’t we all decendants of a club?
You cry evolution; I claim easy pickings.
You scream faith; well one thing they fail to tell
Is that faith is soluable
And I’ve long since drowned.

 

 

I Fear I Am

Lakes are frozen again
I’m drowning in drifts of snow
It’s time this oddessy began
Wandering farther from a home
Closer to a person I know
Lost without care or clue
Alone on a sorrowful stream of harmony
Walking ’til my shoes wore through
Submerged in this sequoia’s shadow
I shall never be free
Not a prayer could save me
I am a little sun and a little moon
All thrown into one
So far from the nearest star
Whatever light you see shining
Has already collapsed to ash
No matter how hard you stare
Who I used to be will not appear
For one can not catch what is not there
I fear I am an elegy of escape
I fear I am a runaway tear
I fear I am

 

No Longer Joe

He’s the guy who reads all the lines
Left to right, up to down
Even in between
Looking for hidden treasure
He’s the guy who dots all his Is
And crosses all his Ts
He never had to ask
Could you help me please?
He wears a simple suit
A cheap gray, but pressed perfect
Drab in all aspects except his root
Firmly grasping at that cliff side
Flowering today he walks into deep red reverie
A slowly spinning kiss for everyone
From the tip of his custom inlaid gun
He is no longer Joe
Too short to say no
Too quiet go with the flow
He is no longer Joe
No more 9-to-5
No one left alive
One final blow
No
He is no longer Joe

Please reload

More from this Author

Archives by Date

Please reload

Archives by Title or Author