The title poem to one of my poetry manuscripts that never came to be. Now that the years have gone by, I see just how prophetic this poem is. Or how damning...
A poem from the archives. This one has been published several times (I think my most published poem), and seemed to be a hit whenever I performed it. Seems so long ago. Another life. Hopefully it still has a bite.
Death is always there:
Death is knocking back
shiny switchblade corners
slippery jackknife turns
rotting on the side
of the road
stalking like a jilted lover...
Rise! is a poem I had written back in 2012, but I feel the message is still valid. I'm a card-carrying procrastinator and self saboteur, and I can't help but feel stupid about it. The world gives us enough obstacles, why do we create even more? If we could just focus all that energy/time/thought into doing what we want to do instead of on all the bullshit reasons we can't/shouldn't/couldn't, then, my friend, we'd be so much closer to becoming our true selves.
Enough preaching. Onto the poem that's mostly preaching. By the way, I hope it helps you if you need it, or entertains you if you don't.
An old Poem of mine:
Mouth like Bukowski
The sun crept up behind the tree line
we rose like zombies
from the grave
another day of errant madness
slaving to make filthy men
instead of rich men
I used to write poetry. That was my thing. It started with lyrics back in my rock n roll days [insert uncomfortable "really?" chuckle here], then when that turned into a flaming wheelbarrow full of turds and blame, I changed gears...