poetry

Vow

poetry

So You’ll sit down and stumble through
the constant metere of your inner urge
and hope to all the Gods you choose
your soul won’t leave you now

But you’ll fire on the pragmatists
who say what you do ‘can’t be done’
attempting to drive home your point
and ever won’dring how

these things have grown so damn complicated
you want to sit and rest
and forego this last fucking test,
But alas, you took a vow

So Just sit and pray
and rue your day:
Your Gods won’t save you now

slowing poetry

poetry

because our imaginations seem
to slow as the crowds take vacation
heading home to see mom and dad

hopefully the man in red and determine
to be resolute rather than allow our fingers
to slide somehow romatically over these
keys and lull our blog into blissful
beauty of heartfelt words

but then
blog is such an ugly word
its perhaps best we just act like
you’re reading this in a quality
glue bound journal

Cop

poetry

And he was lurking around every corner
that bastard cop that has it in for me
But he never seems to pull me over
just smiles and waves as I cruse by
at a steady 83

I’ve burned a lot of gasoline
hoping to avoid the man
but all in all he doesn’t seem
to give a good god damn

So I wonder if I’m running
from a self-conceived behavior
or if he really is gunning for me:
just too busy reading the paper.

beer, pipe, poop, lard

poetry

as the rings rise and hold steady
slowly thickening the medium that is the air
making it harder and harder to see our friends
sitting across the table as we hold a beer
and thumb over pipe after ring blown
through ring talking beer and then poop bad
idea after bad idea returning to already argued
points again and then once more simply to remind
us that none of us is anywhere near to the perfect
we’re glad we never dreamed of and then
it’s off for a midnight run to the arches of gold
where they say if satisfaction wasn’t found in the
beer than maybe it can be found in a quarter pound of
lard

Speach

poetry

It’s a damn shame
that we have to talk like this
But any talk is good talk
even if we rely on
jovial banter to
pretend we don’t know
anything about anything.

It’s hard to deal with.
I know it’s hard to deal with.

So Shut your window
Draw your blinds
And pretend I never said
Anything.

Drip

poetry

Experience dripping?

Hot bath water down a suddenly chilled back
Cold rain from the tip of a nose to the top of a chin
Icemelt from a fading stalactite

Sweat from one’s being
Blood from one’s teeth
Tears from one’s burning eyes

A symbol of Completion.

The winter freezes tight, then it melts away
The last of the bath from a fresh, clean skin
The soul drips from our pens and our words and our songs and our swords
And I can only hope
I’ve a big enough bucket

to catch it.

Good Christian Woman

poetry

He’ll stop every time and
hold the door while you
carry in your groceries.

And you’ll smile
and he’ll smile
and you’ll have a short chat
about the weather,
which neither of you know anything
about
but both of you have
a pretty good idea
that it’s not going to
be so great this week.

And you’ll laugh
and he’ll laugh
and you’ll go your separate ways,
Reluctantly, he
Necessarily, you

And he’ll just wish you wern’t a good Christian woman,
so he wouldn’t feel so bad about
feeling so badly about you