That's it. That's the last of it.
I can no longer partake all
night long. It will be interesting
to see.

Dec. 12, 2011

I'm not in a band on the run,
but I have worn bandages
soon after my mind was done playing.
I got beat up by three security type fellows
thrown down the back door of a club
owned by a Conservative Republican,
but that was another day, and time.

Today, I toiled seeking swimming pools,
and pondered if

You are not the one

The water in the aquarium doesn't calm me;
It, often, makes me neurotic.
I wasn't in a bad mood, tonight, I was irritated
I don't believe in Christ, your Christ
and feel highly agitated, and stupid,
when I get caught at a gathering
where Christ, your Christ, is being pushed.
I make it a very certain practice to not
hang out at places where there are people
who don't like me.
I want my time back. I want my fucking life back.
YOU are not the one I want to give it to.

On occasion but not that often

The first reports were wrong
she wasn't frigid
she loved to get it on,
and when you did your own thing
while she was around
she got pissed off at you.

If you don't write about The Woman
then The Woman steals poems from you.
Funny, because it was the poems
that attracted The Woman to you to start with.
Now this does not mean that
you don't Love the woman;
in fact it is this love
that ultimately robs you of writing
that you would have done.
But, don't worry: other writing
will appear.

Dec. 2, 2011