bad ideas…

parsimony

sunk three feet into
what’s left of this evening;
waiting on my buddy to say go,
maybe just imitate the clowns;
we can use the laugh
while we burn for each other.
friends forever i s’pose.

all the others, like Tallman,
Virginia Line, the Marquessa, &
the king n’ queen
(a matched set;
they ain’t comin’ alone) plus
any of those other fuckers still
banging around, whispering
’bout one more shot; it’ll enhance
the vision & clear the
mind. well, that or just hangin’
around. if you got something to say,
fuckin’ let it out.
i tell ’em to keep bangin’.
nothing like all that screaming when
i’m tryin’ to think; they drink outta mason
jars lookin’ like old friends.

luckily, they don’t die.
that’d be too simple;
(no, i don’t wanna see ’em die.)
they just get married & have kids.
warning would have been
sharp, but coming & going
like magicians ain’t what i’d
been told to look for anyway.
miles out on nights edge,
serendipitous elocution tells the story
of everything that happened
between when i last saw any of ’em
(of y’all.)

i ain’t good like y’all seem to think it
should be; ain’t yet past teenage
rebellion, despite more n’ more gray-hair
courage showin’ up. hidin’ out
here ain’t permanent. we might
meet again; if we do you’ll
know you got to me;
true either way if y’all
need to know.

gonna bury all of this leftover evening
with one last white nail.
call it a ditch digger’s union
contract rolled up in whitewashed
pulp. zipped the lighter under n’ over
till the nail was dry. if y’all are
gonna keep coming on,
lemme take a break, cause
escape is a luxury; just a miracle
kilter. paced out, find
another room to enliven,
another sunday conversation
lookin’ for support.
it would seem that even the
poets are people.
proof on demand,
evidence on arrival.

fuck.

———————————–
Why the fuck not, right? Dedicated to a handful of friendly souls from all through the years and places. One of them saved me a few nights ago. From what? How the fuck should I know? Virginia Line pulled me out before I could get a read on it. Thanks darling. So true it’s almost real.

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9 Responses to “bad ideas…”

  1. neat…
    powerful message,
    thanks for sharing…

  2. Luke Prater Says:

    Dude, you rock. This is prime poetry. I read a LOT of amateur poetry (I admin a busy Group as well as being member of several others and blogging too)… sure, a lot is down to personal opinion, but like any art, there are natural laws that govern also (even after you throw out all the bullshit arbitrary one made up by people). Bit like the laws of physics. The craft of poetry cannot be denied, even when I fail to like a poem’s content. You have much craft, and the art comes automatically. (Oh and I do like the content, but that wasn’t the point).

    Luke @ WordSalad

  3. And you are very real!!! Great poetic stirring words here. Loved the read and thanks for linking with Potluck x

  4. Thanks to all of you for the kind words & compliments. Glad to showcase this poem on Poetry Potluck and get such a great response. Bitchin’.

    crb.

  5. even the/poets are people. … fuck.

    awesome.

  6. Thanks kindly. In the midst of working on 6-7 new poems (I have an insane amount of time to expend thinking/reading/writing poetry) so I am quite appreciative of your eyeballs. Your turn, go write something awesome that inspires yet another poem on my end. Let’s keep this shit going. Sleep is for somniacs anyway.

    crb.

  7. true and realistic….

  8. Interesting and very raw and hard hitting… liked it..

    ॐ नमः शिवाय
    Om Namah Shivaya
    Twitter @VerseEveryDay
    http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com

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