Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
hank-helmanPoems
Is was a long ride home. We were sober. Legal, maybe the best way to describe it. But a 185 kilometer drive, The morning after, On snowy roads Will test you at the core. It wasn't the *** with other people. She'd given a hand job to an eighteen year old, I'd ended up drunk and flaccid, With my head between the legs of a lady from New York City, And ******* Jesus christ, ******* Were never a point of contention between us. God has one gift and we'd never been stingy, jealous, Small minded control freaks or emotional kamikaze suiciders, Dive bombing the happiness out of each other, No way. Nor were we myopic work slaves jacking off to the next tech treat, Nor were we stingy uptight ***** faces, Trading in the allusion of human perfection. No way. We knew love and we knew life and we knew the power of new. But to say Jimi Hendrix wasn't the greatest axe player to ever trip. **** man, that just couldn't stand. So we listened, the windows shaking, The seething poison of artistic disagreement, Like nerve gas, art is serious **** you feel me? All Along the Watchtower, Hey Joe, Crosstown, Voodoo Child, Angel... Some **** just won't stand You dig?
0
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC
Quarrels
Is was a long ride home. We were sober. Legal, maybe the best way to describe it. But a 185 kilometer drive, The morning after, On snowy roads Will test you at the core. It wasn't the *** with other people. She'd given a hand job to an eighteen year old, I'd ended up drunk and flaccid, With my head between the legs of a lady from New York City, And ******* Jesus christ, ******* Were never a point of contention between us. God has one gift and we'd never been stingy, jealous, Small minded control freaks or emotional kamikaze suiciders, Dive bombing the happiness out of each other, No way. Nor were we myopic work slaves jacking off to the next tech treat, Nor were we stingy uptight ***** faces, Trading in the allusion of human perfection. No way. We knew love and we knew life and we knew the power of new. But to say Jimi Hendrix wasn't the greatest axe player to ever trip. **** man, that just couldn't stand. So we listened, the windows shaking, The seething poison of artistic disagreement, Like nerve gas, art is serious **** you feel me? All Along the Watchtower, Hey Joe, Crosstown, Voodoo Child, Angel... Some **** just won't stand You dig?
November 27, 1942 - September 18, 1970-- Jimi-- thinking of you.
hank-helman
Written by
hank-helman
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem