PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Every since I started this combat

Oh my sweet pardon,

I was sipping in this heartache, just to stay awake.

And in every consolation, we move and we part

Just like the trash man, “hello, hello, are you dead?”



In all the glitter and jazz

There’s a hidden crime pursuing somewhere,

Where nothing stands between the man

And his fortune and his debauchery

Just the next thing.



So I speak low enough

For the mice to hear.



This wine is dripping away too fast

Darling, there is no love that won’t be lost.



And in the tiny gears

That make this body stroll along in its innocence

They make their own gold,

And make every curtain decent.



I wait.

The world threw me my last monkey wrench.



And when my fist began to rail against my head,

Only God knew me and was my doctor.

I pretend in my waking life,

That the frigid weather is my only friend.

This car is leading me along with its exhaust

Sinking in my tiny lungs,

Preparing for the last choir song.



I wished that I had gone straight

On toward the neon light,

Directly into the first of the month,

Into the carousel

Where the alley rats seek their refuge.



Who you are

Is where you been.



The pictures are gone and shuffled into a mix

Of skin polished by the wool over your eyes.

But it’s normal baby,

To be naked in your own home.

A trial in vain, a thought without heart.

It’s normal baby,

To call every hour

A plea to have you home.