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Eric the Red Oct 2020
Dead leaves overran the walkway
Wooden bridge we held hands across
Creaks and crunches
Walking across it now
There is the threshold I kissed
Your neck upon
The overhang in need of repair
Open the door
Dust and soot
Cold corridor
Covers what once was vibrant
Love filled
Laughter
Cups of joy
October fires
Long into the night
See your ghost
Walking down the hall
Inviting
Wailing
Hurting
Missing
All this abandoned autumn needs
Is you...
  Oct 2020 Eric the Red
Seranaea Jones
-

" You have no real sense of meter,
your rhyming is non-existent
and you spell like a brat,
following no rules"


Rules?

i didnt know i had to follow
any rules, 'cept the ones in my
head that represent limitation

"Well, you need to read up
on some of the more classic
"recognized" poets—
Learn the Proper Etiquette !"


Dood,

i have read more than a few lines
of that finer moem-age poem-age,
and if you want to write about why
roses are red on fine sheets of poet paper
with a fountain pen in the fashion of Kipling—

Cool;

i will more likely write about how well Violet blew
over the top of a half empty jug of bourbon with
a ball point pen that skips more or less
in the style of Bukowski—

and then someone can say that
we had both written poems
about Colorful Flowers...



© 2020
.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4_bHiOpfeU
Eric the Red Oct 2020
The absolute worst feeling
In the world
Is taking a nap
In the afternoon
Sunlit
Everything familiar
And waking up
To darkness
Night
Not knowing where you
Are
Disoriented
Pained
Wanting to cry
Scared of being alone
Of being hurt by
Someone you love
.
I’m sure there’s other things
That are worse
But afternoon naps
That lead to night
No good can come from...
Poetry is like fragments
And that is the crux of being this type of writer

That fragment in time
Love or loss

Seeing and hiding

The pain
The silence
All internal

Sometimes little slips of paper
Left to be found in a jewelry box
Or luggage
or shoe...

Somehow always attached to leaving
But expressing in short verse
An insurmountable feeling of forever

Our words that never fail to carry
Be it to the heavens
To the sea

We see your captivating flaws
Take our anger and paint a tapestry of phrase
You will never be more beautiful
As when you are the subject of a poet
For that fragment
That stanza
It's yours

You are our muse
Our moments in time
A reality in our dimension
The reality of you
Eric the Red Oct 2020
Remember that bottle of wine
We shared
Remember buying it
Yellow purple label
California
Some valley somewhere
$15
Red Wine
Bitter
To your lips
Remember how we shared it...
It was the only way
from my mouth to yours...
.
Wine kisses with you...
Eric the Red Oct 2020
I’ve got about 20 years to live
Which, for being in my 40s
Is quite bold
People live well past 100 these days
Those with safe routes
Golden paths
Four year college degrees...
.
I drink a few gallons of wine a week
*****
Tequila
But can still run 10 miles
Without stopping
What a strange dichotomy
That woeful mixture
Could be an elixir for some
But it just stresses, strains, depresses, anxiously evolves
Festers
.
At this age you know
The loves who’ve come and gone
and with that admission  
Cynical wit adorning
You’ll know by now
That there truly was only one
And by that, the blood
That pooled, that never clotted
Mighty river
Will someday take you
Drown you bit by bit
Daily
.
For I’ve never been accused
Of being a good man
Men like me die alone
Gutters
Halfway houses
1 bedroom apartments
With one couch
Men like me jump out of windows
Drown in rivers
Of blood that never clot
Waiting
For your hand
To save me
.
20 years is pushing it...
Eric the Red Oct 2020
I’d hear a song of ours playing
Think about you...
The next one would be another
And I’d wonder how you were
On the third I’d know
It was the universe telling me
You were thinking of me
Missing me perhaps
.
I remembered every beautiful thing you said to me...
Turned those musings into music
Of its own...
And chose to be haunted by you
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