listening to a sunset

i should’ve known i would end up
like this. some days i wished i was
somewhere else, somebody else,
prettier so when you jacked off you
would think about my ass. maybe
a second look my way when i’m
walking down liberty avenue. now
i sit here with a dog in my lap and a
crow on my shoulder. my life is spent
waiting on a woodchuck to come out
of the woodpile to steal apples i leave
for a mama bear. i will catch charlie
one of these days. i’m still wearing
the “bob dylan in concert with
special quest merle haggard” t-shirt i
bought in 05. i don’t remember
haggard but i’m sure he was good. is
dylan ever not good? my knees don’t
bend like they used to, my ears only
hear half of what they use to. 40
years of smoking has left me a little
short of breath. sometimes i need a
little more fluffing. about 40% of men
over 40 in the united states know
what i’m talking about. i learned to
read lips when you call me your
“little dirty whore.” i liked that the
first time i heard it forty-five years
ago. i got secrets. i know when things
are good and when things aren’t
right. how simple can i be? i
appreciate the black and white
of winter, lemonade and weed. i
like bukowski and leonard cohen.
so many years i searched outside
my heart. it just left me bitter.
some things never change.

my empty pages

i reminisce of my empty pages.
i sat in rooms of second
hand smoke and watched
people being what people are.
scarlet letter misfits, pathetic
pit bulls, sacrilegious believers,
quick-witted queers, and
tattooed executioners. for them
i was king of kings, a ruler of back
alley poetry. a messiah of
masturbating rhymers searching
for visions in swollen cleavage.

i was a bone-dry transient escaping
torrential rain. i crawled deep
into the darkness of desolate wells
and rested there in the lap of elijah.
he commanded ravens to feed me
organic flesh. when my belly was full
i was given back to those bound in
self slaughter. one by one they sang,
it is ok to be no more
it is ok to be no more
it is ok to be no more.

we floated high on sacramental
wine and healed ourselves with
euphoric verse. the season
changed our masquerade for
festive occasions. we rode on the
wings of cyclones and crawled down
gravel roads. our consequences
left some dead or dying. my
ears would hear their harmony,
it is ok to be no more,
it is ok to be no more.

the name of the game tumbled in my
brain. i dressed myself in lemon grass,
and saluted my comrades before we
crippled our critics for being critics.
they boast of knowing the most noble
cortesan whores. did they ask if i was
adonis resurrected by aphrodite?
was i the choice harlot of the archangel?
we defeated the dragon. i wore fur of the
cadavers on the appian way. i shouted:
“more! please, master”
when he fingered me in the anus. diablo
left me at the altar. buddha fucked me.
my favorite dog has died many times.
i watched butterflies living outside
the law. they taught me how to kiss
before i had lips. i drank water from
the cherith brook. i have been easily
distracted, disgraced by past pathetic
lovers. they offered me gold and silver,
pearls and turquoise. i desired an empty
hour glass. i have survived the revolution
of my spirit and the desolation of my soul.
when i melt into ash, read my empty pages,
it is ok to be no more,
it is ok to be no more,
it is ok to be no more.

inside my spasm

i tasted his heartbeat. my mouth

filled with thunder echoing an

anarchy of passion. my belly was

full. my pompous appetite abated.

my robustness depleted. complacent

of the binds mangling the meat

of my bones. the aroma of our venom

filled the air. our lips were immersed

by it. our muscles depleted from it. our

emulation calmed by it. past the window

we were mindful of the crows. voyeurs

by our invitation. uncelebrated guests.

designated strangers.  we listen to

their generous harmony. they sing

to the lewdness of the sparrow. to

the boyhood of winter and to the

youthfulness of spring. they chant

out the intercourse of the day and

the night. we will drift apart down

a sweet grass path, and meet again

to replenish the lexicon of any neglect.

OPEN READ at Authors Books and Music, Warren PA. 07/07/2015

I have only written two poems over this past month. I read a poem by Lou Reed, “Dragon.” I have wrapped myself up in this poem and it has left an impact on me.

mark 14:51-52

i have followed a crooked line

the gods have drawn. wild

horses stampede through my veins

like drumfire. i have slept in holes of

mockery and eaten from the table of

abandoned nobility. i dropped my linen

cloth and ran naked from gethsemane

without shame. my copulation

has been consistent with the prince of

peace. i scavenged gold from the wishing

wells of the romantic. i was never aroused

to swim in a river of surrender. i am

content to be an undaunted ghost,

ignoring the beauty of beauty. i

cannot deceive the truth that sleeps

behind my eyes. war is masturbating my

flesh tearing it from the bone in star

spangled dexterity. the wind slips past the

window pane and hides in my heart. i am

blessed with the chinooks while waiting on

black crows to deliver me my trespasses. i

curse the limits of my alphabet beneath his

crown of thorns. my testament quakes with

scripture. he crawled into my tomb and

removed the feathers of my sly deceit.

god’s pride

david found grace in the eyes

of johnathan. they made for

themselves a covenant. i emulate

their ways in a song of songs. my

erotic desire intensifies my divine

love. from my heart it will not be

crucified. i will go into exile from

their abhorrent tongues. they curse

profanity into the air. you have soured

the reverence of sentiment. you

have stolen the messiah’s face. you fill

his teeth with mold. you are the one

the sparrow can no longer trust.

kindness and mercy was given

to the eunuchs. daniel is now their

prince. the evangelist is the thief

who cannot steal from me what is free.

BuzFree @ OPEN READ at Authors Books and Music in Warren PA 06/02/2015


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