I’ve got $326 dollars and some change in my pocket,
which would have scarcely gotten me through a night
a few years ago
now it has to get me to the bus station
and as far from here as possible

It swallows people you know,
this place

it burns dreams in avaricious boilers
that fuel the machine
and dispenses the ashes like pepper
to season the new arrivals

and they come every day, just as I did



my last book sank beneath the clearance table
in less than two weeks
five times shorter than it took me to write

I had a moment though,
I enjoyed the middle rungs
with their small measure of success
steak instead of noodles
good wine instead of cheep beer
planes instead of busses
but poets are a dime a dozen

worse than that,
there may not be a dozen good ones left

people don’t read these days anyway...
the anticipation, the feel of turning the page
will vanish soon, for good, but not for the better

the street poets rule the medium now
trying to romanticize an erroneous gangland culture
that seems more suitable to destroy,
rather than rise above itself

but they sell
they sell millions
and make millions
far more than Dylan Thomas or E.E. Cummings
ever did
they are the Geppettos of the day
and their marionettes stoke the cisterns with fervor

so here I am
losing my religion to such literary genius as

“ don’t notin matta/my glock ll make’m scatta”

Poe is wincing in his grave

I am walking out of mine

past the liquor stores
past the pawn shops
past the proprietors that evaporate behind bared windows
past the peddlers of synthetic escape
and skin
on to the bus
on to my next chapter, (that I won’t write)
because there is little use for an obsolete cog
like hundreds of others,
thousands maybe
and because Warhol was right
and I’m at 18
and I’ve come full circle
the fact that she didn’t ask me to stay
this morning, only tells me that
like this vile city,
she will forget me
just as easily as
she loved me



kc '10

Wow kc, very beautiful and insightful...so true...loved "Poe is wincing in his grave, I am walking out of mine." All of it.

{{{Kev}}}.. ...I agree...poets of old (and not so old) would look at the drivel that some call "poetry" now and wonder "What happened?"

Keep climbing and rise above it all!!

bravo kc!! poe is wincing in his grave, but you keep him alive. loved every word of its truth.

thank you all...i appreciate the responses, as always

The sad thing about this is the reality behind it.

agreed...

Nice Nice Nice

You have walked out of your grave, though you have always been alive. I love how this passion seeps and macerates. Enticing writes

thank you for taking the time...

I will go back a bit....

You have come full circle my friend, from day one when your pen hit the paper I knew their was this brilliant, kind and giving soul
waiting to exhale... you have filled us with your light and for this you soar...

Brilliant, indepth write...

Sam, thank you, thank you, thank you

Sadie, you're so very kind, thank you

2KM, to you too!

thank you

are you sure you didn't mean sore? lol

No silly you,,,
Bravo

hahaha!!!!

My poems are crappy compair to yours

that's not true.