Suspension of disbelief is a
lifetime companion; the kind that
is always by the phone, waiting
for my number to light the caller id.
It’s with me whenever I can’t explain
my own motivations - especially
times like now.
That I should desire a man so far
from prime is confounding,
but the course grit of your cheek
on my neck robs my brain of thought.
You are equally perplexed by me -
the youth you crave, wanting nothing
from you, save for the passion of
your latin bravado.
Baby, I’m a man.
Give me… buy me… words that will
never part my lips, least of all
Please, don’t diminish me.
My life belongs to the gods of
nine to five and I don’t need a daddy.
I saw her in an arts district tavern -
a simple pub of lesser classes;
not her people, yet there she was -
absently finger ******* her Iphone
with a sea breeze before her.
Her overwhelmingly basic presence
soured my bourbon with unpleasant
notes of disdain, but this city is free,
I suppose, and this beverly-belle
is free to foul whatever air she pleases;
just as I am to limit my tolerance
to those of my own station.
So, paying my tab, and boarding
the Metro , I retreated to my skid row hovel
where I continued to drink until
shadows blurred with tilting earth,
and my body sunk into carpet stained
Not the place I dreamed of, but
at least I know where my place is.
I felt that I should give a small explanation for this. My father was a heavy alcoholic, so I often got to witnesses first hand how the substance can distort the mind and inspire blind hatred. The "I" in this poem is loosely based on him.
I like my coffee
The same way I like my men;
I don't drink coffee.
These walls are sacred -
here in my solitude,
coating my mind
with toxic glaze,
staring at the void
through smoky haze,
for the world outside.
My vain sacrifice
come to fruition -
yielding a river
of poisonous slurry;
would leave it's banks
but vision is too blurry
so, hear I sit
holding the oath
I swore to the shadows
of my mind.
All is gone!!
flowers, trees -
Day and night are one,
and summer is cold as winter.
life has been consumed
in growing flames that give no light.
There is no light.
Darkness has fallen
while i sit alone,
maddened by deafening silence.
When you told me you loved me,
I packed your words into a syringe
and injected them into my vein.
They traveled through my blood
into my heart,
filling my body with joy;
my senses numb
to the world outside of us.
High on us,
high on your words,
but that high was gone as quickly
as you were.
It seems that I am liked by none
It seems I’m not worthwhile.
Maybe I would be more fun
If I would only smile.
Maybe I could change my style,
Though, I'm not a cheerful son
But with all my craft and guile
I could make you think I’m one.
Maybe I could make this fun
And go the extra mile;
Skills and graces overdone
And sell them with a smile.
I could always force a smile
As I face the social gun
A bright one made from my denial
Oh! What social fun!
Depression hidden from the sun
And growing all the while
Until I almost come undone
But I’m ok, so smile.
Maybe that could last a while
Or it may soon be done
If I were to force a smile
I fear that would fool none.
But I’ll say this and then I’ll run
Most times I don’t want to smile
But tell me, if I forced one,
Would I be worth your while?
A very old poem from my youth