poem
-
Bukowski On The Bus Like U2 the Beats introduced me to poetry. The language lush, rich, and green as old money. These days we all read a little too much into Bukowski. The boozed up philistine postman with literary pretensions. He made it look so easy. And we always go after those girls.
-
CIRCLING THE STREET SIGN TO MECCA -for Robert Trammel I am with the girl in Black. straight calamitous hair just touches the Chinese collar of her priest frock minus the white, worn unbuttoned like a holy trench coat as it flaps in the wind over carboned steel toed combat boots. We march two ebony garbed
-
Kool aid and Antidepressants JOEY CLOUDY·WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 2015·1 MINUTE I find it humiliating to have to take antidepressants antipsychotics and mood stabilizers yet it is such a small price to pay to stay out of the mad house, jailhouse or the streets of the southern slums with the rest of the dregs of the
-
Idiot “I want to grow old with you.” and I knew it was a lie like “Punks not dead.” It was beautiful. And I fell for love. What a title for a poem.
-
She Left This Death and I have unfinished business Tonight we get our affairs in order Settle an old score. I’ve been out of commission For nearly a decade, now this is going down. A Kungfu porno, her praying mantis vs my snake fist. She left this? She coos with a smile after I pull
-
The White Woman’s Burden “When women go wrong, men go right after them.” — Mae West “Women are the only exploited group in history to have been idealized into powerlessness.” –Erica Jong “She’s a rich bitch ya’ know, she was raised by maids.” —Steve Zissui Our master of ceremonies has just been informed that we
-
Bathing with Sylvia Before we met we both knew how it ended It’s a well-worn path To the edge of the abyss I know it well As a yo-yo knows the string. We row out to the edge of our oblivion The cyclones dance at the edge of the void. A snatch of the wrist
-
Death Is Coming “You can run, but you’ll just die tired.” -The Grim Reaper Death is the bull queer in the jail house of life Whose soul purpose is to sodomize us all. While we run from this reality with sensual distraction death is here to bugger us all. Yeah, death is here to fuck
-
“I Predict Pain” -Clubber Lang I’d been training hard every day for a year and had bruised the ribs of Marines twice the size of the tall drink of water in the opposite corner. Figured I’d punch a hole through this skinny kid from New York. My corner man tells me to be careful “
-
One Of Us Will Have To Die The straight rusty razor trembles in a hand that shakes as if it belonged to a wino with the D. T.s. It’s impossible to shave when I’m invisible in mirrors and all I see is his face haunting me like a hungry ghost in old black and white
Joey Cloudy online 