PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

there’s really no such thing as “responsibility” in the classical sense
there was a gremlin in my brain saying as I
began to strain myself upwards from the barbed wire that
the night became after it had started to drink
too much talking

to myself, like always outwardly/inwardly be it
more or less sober than the next day or
more or less cluttered with
poems. by my foot, as i stop outside the
half-collapsed cave (from the looks of it) of the bathroom sits
“write songs on guitar” which is
my favorite and least practiced of instruments. i think again
of my body as an instrument
and the books and birds all fingers or lips (blowing)
a concentrated air from arbitrary ending of my body to the next
could not produce another song. “there is no way

i tell myself talking inwardly and less sober
entering the closing clamshell of another morning shower
in such shambles. in/among ruin/s. with dry skin for now
i try to feel the coming wind over all
the air conditioning.

There is a gremlin in my brain talking about
Western philosophy which really is
a remake of Eastern philosophy with more microscopes
and astronauts around. if Buddha had hung around
a bit longer maybe he also would have run out of music
realized that space has no wind except radiation which
well we have plenty of already
maybe after he got fat
he would’ve moved to Texas and started reading the bible like my stepdad
does, seated like a sealed quartz among his garden
of bullets, waiting for the world to end.

the shower says nothing.
i thought something must be saying something
somewhere.
maybe there is a poem still relevant to where we’re all going
hidden carefully perhaps above the same ocean
the pilgrim’s and the slaves have travelled
with bibles and chains out above the waves
where the wind howls.