I quit drugs for this?
I gave up life on the road
traveling from city to city
going to shows, beaches,
museums, bars and parks
partying it up all night
living a life where the nightmares
were hallucinations
and not reality
where surrealistic twists
made perfect sense
and you could always
blame it on the doses
when the beer flowed freely
and the fragrance of opium
kept olfactory senses enraptured
when another city
was always on the horizon
and home went by names
like Marriot and Sheraton
when money was made on the sly
and freedom lived on every corner
when ether wasn’t exclusive
to scifi movies and tv series
and all the fun was allowed
when yelling voices could be avoided
and assholes could be refused service
and you ran the show yourself
when Dali was witnesses
with hash brownies and synthetic mescaline
the doctors knew nothing
and the doses gave good trips
and didn’t threaten to turn bad
cause Sun Ra was a little weird
and now I get up every day
I’m a responsible adult now
fully functional in society
and I feel like I’m getting shafted
every morning when I wake
have to hear the harangues
and get assigned menial tasks
and all I can think of
is what a fucking fool I am
to have sold out the dream
for something not better
than a bloody nosed coke dream
come home from work; tired
back twisted; fingers all cut up
and to think—I used to criticize
the things whores did for money
7-12-95
Perfect poem packs a punch
.
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitutes
thank you. glad you enjoyed
thank you. glad you enjoyed it