I didn’t get

stoned enough

 listening to Bukowski

doing a reading


and I toke

on a bowl of green

and contemplate

burning a bidi


and I imagine myself

being a bigtime poet

and I visualize myself

prancing before

the pretty college girls


and I imagine their adoring looks

knowing I always

hit well in this park


and I think

of the accolades

and the glory


Oh, it could be so sweet

if I only make it so

with these words

I pass off as verse


go into work

avoid the churches

and hit a brewpub or two

along the way


sip that beer;

toke that bowl;

listen to the music as it plays


my fame is a joke

I sit alone

in a dirty room


with beer

and cheap incense

burning; lightly

filling up the air


the fantasies

don’t translate well

into reality


the paycheck

& the credit cards

don’t fill me up

with very much awe


It’s just a bit more

of the same thing

as another night

rolls into another night


morning will rise

before I’m ready

It seems some things

never change with time


just not the ones

that you want to be

still the same



View georgeschaefer's Full Portfolio