I’m a better person than you because I’m voting for Obama

poetry

In the act,
in the midst
of congratulating myself
on being a humanitarian
on being a swell guy,
I realized I didn’t do
what I was so proud of;
I didn’t stop;
I didn’t help;
I didn’t lend a hand;
I left a man,
walking on the road
in the 107 degree heat
and made excuses to myself
saying: Iwasn’tgoingveryfar;
Iwasabouttostop;hemighthave
stunk;hemighthaverobbedme;it
mightn’thavebeensafe;whatifI
waslate;someoneelsewillhelp.

Accusing myself with my excuses,
I realized that just because
I am voting for Obama doesn’t
mean that I don’t still suck,
just like everybody else.

because if your sole purpose in life is to produce cotton and you don’t – consider your life a failure

poetry

whether you are aware or not
my ability to write
epic poetry of love and life
has been reduced
to that annoying little whine
coming from the breaks of a ’57
chevy station wagon
stacked with a whole house’s
worth of furniture
mattress
desk
rocking chair and all
up to the top of the
cottonless cotton tree

and almost as sad

thank God that time always moves forward and i never have to go back. life was good then. eternally better now.

poetry

an ode for things i’ve lost and cannot find
for the times we had but left behind
my “car”
your shirt
“don’t hate me because i’m beautiful”
and then the “sidewalk talks”
airing our dirty laundry
opening ourselves up to hear rebuke
and how it all went awry
when she disagreed

or what about when you got speakers
great speakers
mounted in your car
but only a radio? terrible quality
remember how excited you were?

an ode for things i’ve lost and cannot find
for the times we had but left behind
and infernal discussions
he shopped at women’s clothing stores to buy
“pimp” hats
and corduroy pants with pockets big enough
for what? 16 coke cans?

an ode for things i’ve lost and cannot find
for times i had, so glad to have left
behind

Dog Day Afternoon

poetry

I saw the doctor today
he looked into my eyes and
smiled. How could he?
He took a look at my finger,
my mutating thumb stared back at him
How dare he?
The old vivacious man thrilled to meet me
like I made sense, wind in the right direction
It is what no one ever sees
a girl in a chair facing the absence of truth
cold sympathetic eyes
mouth uttering empty words
“You’re a good girl”
Was I mistaken for a dog?
Those words were meant for pets,
the domesticated fools.
Maybe I’m the nature’s pet
fed with low-weight hope,
whole healthy lies and
juicy bones.
How long before I’m put to sleep?
How long must I wait for my free run in the park?
Until then
I piss on nature’s greens

Looking forward to inevitable awkward silences

poetry

They will arrive at six
and then it will begin:
she’ll feel strange,
in a strange place
with strange people,
including a future mother-
in-law, sister-in-law, and
of course me, a future, possible
brother-in-law, who will
enjoy sitting back and
soaking in the awkward
silences, and perhaps
even contribruting to them by not
contributing to the conversation,
which will fit in perfectly
with the lattitude permitted
to me by my laziness.