My Blog List
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Tuesday, October 3, 2017
Monday, October 2, 2017
The Post-Me
Oh, how sick & tired I am of myself.
I've lived with myself for too long
I've wasted the best years of my life with me.
I've put up with enough of my abuse.
I'm fed up to here with me.
I want a divorce from me.
We have irreconcilable differences, myself and I.
I'm tired of my excuses.
I'm tired of hearing that I'm going to try again.
I'm hopeless.
I'm a lost cause.
Let's face it, I'm never going to change.
And I'm not going to take myself any longer.
I'm just making a fool of myself.
I've had enough!
I'm leaving.
I don't ever want to see myself again.
Don't write.
Don't call.
Don't come around looking to make amends.
I don't want to hear any more of my empty promises.
I'm sick of my sob stories, my "I'm
sorries."
Stuff'em!
They mean nothing to me.
I've learned that the hard way by now.
I'm not going to enable my sorry ass one minute longer.
I'm not the same old sucker I used to be.
I don't care what I say, what I threaten.
I fucking mean it this time.
I can go jump off a bridge for all I care.
That's not my business; it's no longer any concern of mine.
Go ahead and try me.
I'm through.
Do I understand?
Through.
I'm walking out that door and never looking back.
Oh I won't, won't I?
Well, just watch me wise-guy.
I'm going somewhere where I can never find me.
I'm starting a new life without me.
No, it's not someone else, it's me.
Why can't I get that through that thick head of mine?
It's me me me me me.
But that's all over, thank god.
This is the post-me.
This is the what-comes-after-me.
This is the world without me.
And boy is it about time.
I can see the world without me already.
It's beautiful.
And I can't wait to be there.
It’s like I can finally breathe again.
Goodbye, asshole.
No, I'm not back already, you smirking shithead.
I forgot my keys.
I forgot my keys.
Sunday, October 1, 2017
Saturday, September 30, 2017
 |
|
This Poem Has Been Censored by the FBI*
Yesterday I got eaten by a bear.
It wasn’t even a particularly ferocious bear.
More like a natty brown rug
full of cat fur & crumbs propped
up on some old broomsticks.
I think he was even missing some crucial teeth.
Maybe an eye.
I didn’t run very fast trying to get away either.
I made a kind of lazy, left-handed lope of my escape.
I don’t know why. I can’t explain my curious lassitude.
I guess I just didn't care very much.
I guess I couldn’t be bothered.
I was out hunting 1916 biplanes in the forest.
It's a hobby of mine.
The Sikorsky, the Sopwith, the Halberstadt.
The names roll off the tongue like a mouse pad
& a helmet.
The Junkers, the Nieuport, the Sopwith Pup.
I had with me a box of tissues, a portable drill press &
my untreatable ophthalmophobia.
Yesterday it was—a day a lot like this one.
You could have cut it with a knife,
but who would want to
with the mess it would make?
There. The scene is set.
I don’t know much about the digestive system
of a bear. What I do know
is a lot of useless stuff about Keanu Reeves.
Biplanes are like insults. When you start
looking for them, you find them everywhere.
A bear’s digestive tract is short,
only 40% the length of a normal herbivore.
It cannot digest mature plants.
It’s the cellulose that give it trouble, buster.
Keanu Reeves, however, does not appear to suffer
the same problem.
I wish I’d known all this before I was eaten.
I, myself, have often been accused of immaturity.
You can be the judge of that.
There are a lot of things that have crashed
unheard in the forest
A bear could be one of them.
So could Keanu Reeves.
The supersonic jet of the future will be a biplane
according to the Japanese
who should know as well anyone.
If it flew 100 years ago,
it will fly again.
We must somehow keep the faith.
|
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)