"elwood" poems - Hello Poetry

Hail John Elwood, in his prime, caught in rooms flesh-colored Pinned beneath his father's roof, alone and with no money Looking for a fix, or flesh, or rhythm in the halls Low John Elwood, creeping off, in women's clothes and make-up Snapping twigs and branches, bent on internet pursuits Tapping out a destiny in pitter-patter keystrokes Seasoned in the unkempt dust of laundry-room decay Soft, soft, soft John Elwood, crying out in fever Bent a back toward a screen to fill the world with lights Consuming stuff in subtle ways, a pizza clown in candor Shiny, shiny Elwood, John, the man of lowly passions Holding open doors for joy of disembodied jerseys Strutting through the dog-food walk, geometry of angels

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Sep 25, 2012

Sep 25, 2012 at 5:29 PM UTC

john-elwood

John Elwood Ask the Blues

Hail John Elwood, in his prime, caught in rooms flesh-colored Pinned beneath his father's roof, alone and with no money Looking for a fix, or flesh, or rhythm in the halls Low John Elwood, creeping off, in women's clothes and make-up Snapping twigs and branches, bent on internet pursuits Tapping out a destiny in pitter-patter keystrokes Seasoned in the unkempt dust of laundry-room decay Soft, soft, soft John Elwood, crying out in fever Bent a back toward a screen to fill the world with lights Consuming stuff in subtle ways, a pizza clown in candor Shiny, shiny Elwood, John, the man of lowly passions Holding open doors for joy of disembodied jerseys Strutting through the dog-food walk, geometry of angels

13

used to try writing raps my version of stealing from blacks near had a heart-attack over the fact aint nothing worse than a white assed mac back to the roots with my poetic muse but I refuse to lose the blues or act like they aren’t my bad news see, I too have worn out shoes solidarity and commonality through being poor letters to Santa scratched into the cold dirt floor always living hungry, afraid to ask for more only thing ever offered freely was access to the front door you know.. “complaining *** get the **** out” leaving very little room for anyone to doubt there was nothing of my station granting me any version of clout and fingerprints across my face were the answer to a pout now I just stick with poetry, was never really a thief well except that little piece of coral from the Hawaiian reef or my trip to Jamaica when I ripped off that spleef or the time after all that trimming I had 11 pounds of keef those are all lies I have barely been off the west coast I wanted you to be impressed so I had to try and boast like that was the only way you would think I was ‘the most’ guess I will go do my Elwood impression and have some plain white toast

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Aug 31, 2015

Aug 31, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC

s-lyman-temple

coming to terms

used to try writing raps my version of stealing from blacks near had a heart-attack over the fact aint nothing worse than a white assed mac back to the roots with my poetic muse but I refuse to lose the blues or act like they aren’t my bad news see, I too have worn out shoes solidarity and commonality through being poor letters to Santa scratched into the cold dirt floor always living hungry, afraid to ask for more only thing ever offered freely was access to the front door you know.. “complaining *** get the **** out” leaving very little room for anyone to doubt there was nothing of my station granting me any version of clout and fingerprints across my face were the answer to a pout now I just stick with poetry, was never really a thief well except that little piece of coral from the Hawaiian reef or my trip to Jamaica when I ripped off that spleef or the time after all that trimming I had 11 pounds of keef those are all lies I have barely been off the west coast I wanted you to be impressed so I had to try and boast like that was the only way you would think I was ‘the most’ guess I will go do my Elwood impression and have some plain white toast

24

$A song by a Canadian band$ When the dragons grow too mighty To slay with pen or sword I grow weary of the battle And the storm I walk toward When all around is madness And there's no safe port in view I long to turn my path homeward To stop a while with you When life becomes as barren And as cold as winter skies There's a beacon in the darkness In a distant pair of eyes In vain to search for honor And in vain to search for truth But these things can still be given Your love has shown me proof Poet/lyricist Neil Elwood Peart

0

Nov 15, 2020

Nov 15, 2020 at 4:28 PM UTC

TravelerTim

Madrigal

$A song by a Canadian band$ When the dragons grow too mighty To slay with pen or sword I grow weary of the battle And the storm I walk toward When all around is madness And there's no safe port in view I long to turn my path homeward To stop a while with you When life becomes as barren And as cold as winter skies There's a beacon in the darkness In a distant pair of eyes In vain to search for honor And in vain to search for truth But these things can still be given Your love has shown me proof Poet/lyricist Neil Elwood Peart

18