Saturday, March 8, 2008

you don't need a .38 when you're turning 38

it's pouring today in january
that means the car won't start
good thing i have wine here
i'll stay home w/the cats, sip wine
& mess around w/the abc's
shit, man, two more weeks & i turn 38
yes, like the caliber of the gun
i can't stand the world but i wanna live
people are so fucking dumb tho
history wouldn't repeat itself
if we all just basked in the NOW
if we did that there wouldn't even
be a history or a future to worry over
but i don't foresee this happening in my lifetime
maybe after we bomb each other to kingdom shit
& some new kind of human evolves
a horizontal man, one that reclines all of his days
one that has the ambition of a common flower
there will be peace on earth but until then
i don't mind the engine not turning over
i don't mind the rain streaming down the windows
& the cats walking across my lap
& slowly pouring glasses of wine
i don't mind messing around w/the abc's
i don't mind not noticing how it turned
from morning to afternoon to dusk to dark
This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.