poetry not flowing

through inspiration

being swashbuckled

by the craving for comfort


the hot tongued choir boy

scolds the infidelity

of the leper punished by god

for contracting syphilis

from an Asian women

seeking political asylum on Mars


It’s enough for me

to scream “uncle” aloud

and let the dream slip to pass

into utter oblivion

and penciled in data sheets

of Madison Avenue conmen


the style is sweet

but the derrière is too plump

as asphalt senators rise

from the concrete

to capture E. Michigan and LA


clouds of azure pass over head

and my thought is screened

from nourishing sunlight


thoughts; blocked; intercepted

by top secret CIA guys

in ugly suits

and Groucho Marx glasses 


bludgeoned by ultra men

with ultra razors

not liking my deodorant

and thinking that reading Genet

turns one into a gay


I seek shelter just wanting

a quiet place to sleep

the prose is passable

but the verse keeps slipping


still too young to sing the blues

and too old to masturbate

just too boring all rumors abound


but the morale is high

and the faith in the future

though sputtering

manages to stay alive


It’s just too fucking bad

I haven’t been clued in

on what it’s all about

or where it’s leading





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allets's picture

stuck in the middle

loved last 4 lines - well writ! ~S~



georgeschaefer's picture

thanks I'm still trying

thanks I'm still trying