"blacklisted" poems - Hello Poetry

I feel like a comic strip hobo With no money for deposit And still I step from slapstick to cement and hope court jester is enough here I have come out of the rain and into your home Drawn to you Though there is no pie in your window No ghostly fingers of your sweet smell beckoning me in You make me feel Like a ghost in a graveyard Praying for a new harmonica inhale and exhale So that this music can sound more like a dance for two A panic waltz for feet trying to match your grace And today Darlin' There is honey between my teeth A sweet sound Our love is backwards Blacklisted An elbow torqued and knuckle gutted dry heave halleluja Arthur Miller would have written a satire about our love I remember our early conversations You said you didn't believe in god I said that he was a fantastic literary device You said though you didn't believe in god that people themselves could be godly I suddenly wondered what you would look like with a jerry curl "Let's not call it godly," I said "What then," you said I don't know I just know that Your eyes are like second winds like Breathcatch memories of highway carjackings where you were the one left on the side of the road The warm summer pillow of your stomach And the peel of my face away from it Is sticky like candy Your stomach is like candy in that way So is my face I can be sweet too Your smile is speechless like the speakers are speechless And the music has stopped and our bodies are still save for your smile That quivers like fire And I am a comic strip hobo With a bandana backpack and not much to offer But I am drawn to you You make me feel like harmonica breath You make my mouth feel like honey

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Jun 28, 2013

Jun 28, 2013 at 4:34 PM UTC

jon-tobias

I am a Comic Strip Hobo

I feel like a comic strip hobo With no money for deposit And still I step from slapstick to cement and hope court jester is enough here I have come out of the rain and into your home Drawn to you Though there is no pie in your window No ghostly fingers of your sweet smell beckoning me in You make me feel Like a ghost in a graveyard Praying for a new harmonica inhale and exhale So that this music can sound more like a dance for two A panic waltz for feet trying to match your grace And today Darlin' There is honey between my teeth A sweet sound Our love is backwards Blacklisted An elbow torqued and knuckle gutted dry heave halleluja Arthur Miller would have written a satire about our love I remember our early conversations You said you didn't believe in god I said that he was a fantastic literary device You said though you didn't believe in god that people themselves could be godly I suddenly wondered what you would look like with a jerry curl "Let's not call it godly," I said "What then," you said I don't know I just know that Your eyes are like second winds like Breathcatch memories of highway carjackings where you were the one left on the side of the road The warm summer pillow of your stomach And the peel of my face away from it Is sticky like candy Your stomach is like candy in that way So is my face I can be sweet too Your smile is speechless like the speakers are speechless And the music has stopped and our bodies are still save for your smile That quivers like fire And I am a comic strip hobo With a bandana backpack and not much to offer But I am drawn to you You make me feel like harmonica breath You make my mouth feel like honey