Today's Inventory
Eased myself into the
morning
with some codeine and hash
and
ready some d.a.levy as
Tallis
played on the
radio,
logged into my
emails,
1 poem accepted for Ink
Sweat & Tears
5 poems taken by Bold
Monkey
1 poem welcomed by
Rumrazor Press,
final cover image of Lucy
Hell
for Brad Mason Hamlin
book
received;
we went out for breakfast
and
groceries and then
returned,
eased myself into the
afternoon
with some valium and
hash
and some J S
Bach,
then as evening
approached
I took some more codeine
and
smoked pot, drank
espresso,
I read some more d. a.
levy and
the radio blessed with Ray
Charles,
later, I typed up a couple
of poems,
emailed a friend, some
editors
and poets and then poured
the
1st glass of
wine, poured some more
and then sat with pen and
paper
and wrote this
poem.
Lost, Left Behind
I do understand the
pain of people
that have become
lost,
left behind, forgotten
or
simply ignored:
I know this,
I know this pain
of
never-belonging,
of being on the
outside,
but this pain
if truthful,
transforms,
moulds an
iron-like
shadow that
swings in
the quiet
reflections,
that stands
strong
in the
adversity
of closing
walls.
Why Do It?
What have I to
prove?
millions of people
no
doubt write poetry
from
6 year olds to
death-bed,
millions of poems
by
millions of people,
who,
in the majority, keep
it
private, share maybe
with friends and
family
and then there are
poetry writers
who
like to
get it out there to
anybody
they can get it to and
Im
one of those
poem-
writers and why is
this?
ego?
maybe, but
doubtful,
truth is I cant
think of
anything else to do and
Ive always
enjoyed
antagonizing and
provoking people and
poem editors have
fast
become my favourite
sparring
partners.
Words, Images, Music
No fucking doubt Ive
been
blessed in my time
here,
but Ive also
been
cheated and lied
to,
turned-over, robbed
and
deceived, misled
and
misinformed, Ive
been
kidnapped and
hood-winked by words
and images and
sounds,
Ive been fucked
again
and again,
but very
frequently
Ive been saved by
the
word or an
image,
or music.
An Editor's Comment kind of
Haiku
A hard read, a visceral read
without pretty images,
in other words,
no bullshit.