Confusion
with a thirst
of stale bitterness
is no reason
to poison someone’s
happiness.
My bad.
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Tag Archives: prose
an open coffin.
There will always be poverty
and powerless men, who feel nothing
towards people just trying to exist.
Believe it or not it was a club to join,
Till 1955,
all it took, was a .45 colt, a river, a fan.
But it (is) not that world anymore, is it?
I want to say no, but Jackson’s slaying of elderly men?
Born of the same bullet that lay Evers dead.
It’s enough to make you want to blind your eyes, it’s enough to know better than to blind your soul.
So as there will always be poverty and powerless men,
there must never be closed,
an open coffin.
Another night, Bohemian
Strange! Bohemian’s more like it,
how it’s all so curious
but there isn’t a cat in sight.
I think I’ll stick around a little longer—
just for kicks, another Scott…Another.
Good nights with decent people, that’s all.
ghosts
As a kid I used to be afraid of seeing ghosts.
Now as an adult, I only see the one’s
I’ve created. But I don’t fear them anymore
knowing I was the one they could see through
all along.
one day
It’s odd, how so much can happen in a day.
It’s sad and almost surreal, really. You can spend so much time
waiting, and healing. Then one day, it’s over.
A little wink to Kurt
Time to sink back
to the far side of the moon?
Nah, this soil will do.
So it goes.
honest fiction
Fill me with whiskey,
I’ll spill some truth.
Fill me with time and no one,
and I have filled pages with reason.
Reason enough to explain the lies
I tried to convince myself true.
My most honest fiction, in truth
is all that I can do.
you’re ugly?
If you
can be
comfortable
with you’re ugly,
you can be
everything
they said
you weren’t.
old friend
I look at you
like an old friend
someone I haven’t talked to in a while
and with enough time together
you find it odd
how good it feels
to speak again, and again
in the morning and at night
I’m the lull of mid afternoon
taking pieces of my certainty that aren’t yours to have
leading me to remember, why
we stopped speaking
in the first place.
Though you know I’ll listen when you call.
I couldn’t be that cruel.
Freedom, by Jonathan Franzen
Next
to the Bible
in the Dollar Store
I pick up
Freedom, by Jonathan Franzen
tuck it
under my arm
and proceed to the cashier,
handing her a buck
she looks at me warmly
and says,
this is a good one, but
young man, have you read the Holy Bible?
Words Of An Average White Male 