Yearning for some respect
and the baseline commodity,
between fits of glory
and ill repose,
I glimpsed reckless defiance in his gaudy eyes.
He limped casually, with a certain swag, through the lifted city
with his certain women by his side.
His eyebrows were cutting like fast jets across exotic horizons
and his breath
was a realistic appraisal
of god genius
A Godlike philosophy born when young in the womb
fertile and manipulated
by whatever, or whoever; his parents, or his
had given him
a total blessing.
Possessing yet not possessed
by his verbal launching pad
he sent his gargantuan rockets
fueled with persuasion and desire
into the vibrant night.
All those lynched by their fears and their beers
fell victim to his fetid grasp.
Devoured by his insatiable nature for the task
he took them by the throat and led them to the water
reflecting his greatness
he did receive…
and he did gloat.
I watched his unholy procession
like a monk from Meteora
high above yet still enticed by this foul emanation.
In between fragile seconds my solid stare caught his reparation
and I lifted my throat,
a demon mongering thief of the night,
to down another vodka as the musak played on and strong.
I could have asked Alice,
I could have left myself to enticements and women;
but I was stiff and listless when it came to change:
I wanted to find the soul of this man within his royal frame.
Time played to my plans
and I felt a glance of history shredding itself on my teeth
my words, unspoken, were already taking blood from the beast.
He became a swollen and unhappy vessel
this voodoo child has lost his holy words
he was stumbling down between low moods
the great throbbing mass of people
pushed him out into the sick darkness
I pushed my own self out from the crag I had made in this weird world…
I followed him as he rolled his tongue in his mouth
smirking and speaking to women
slurring and spilling his guts
he pretended to dance with flesh
as this world cared not for his girl
nor his sodden breast
leaving him all alone as the bleak morning rose.
Seagulls unfurled their wings and picked chips from the disgusting ground
I drew closer to this fragile man-mountain
now just a messy mound.
He had been a king of city-slut-night-time-activity.
I knelt down to this crumbling king
as his hands held his vomit
and his tears tried vainly to dilute the alcohol in his swollen guts
I pressed my fingers into his shoulders
asking of the real problem.
He did not notice me
or my force
he just leaned against the wet brick wall
and cried out for less power.
The wall wet and cold
reverberated perfectly his call
and for a fleeting moment the taxis stopped and watched this weird commotion
that we all descend into
and then they moved on
searching for a fare.
Just another love story.