(The Last Poem Before I Die)

(there comes a time when
just aren’t what they used to be

monsters in love
how beautiful could they be?

in the u.s. it’s no longer outside the norm
to appear strange or say “i don’t give a fuck”

as we get older we learn to “hook ‘em while they’re young”
we’ve a need to feed off of the youth
still searching to place a hand on a yesterday
with the today right in our palms

and the kids just want to have fun
one behavior pattern or the next

am i still pre-youth?
working toward well-dressed
married with children
hardworking respectable citizen
sitcom and laugh track for the audience at home

then i’d always wonder what i would’ve been like
and what happened to what we used to be
what we wanted to become out of those wild ideas
and dreams we used to have

i was just an american boy
left to find myself

exploring new methods
“we all end up doing something”
i’m bundled tightly in warm cloth
safe out of touch
with my eyes not remotely visible

i trust that i’ll be fine
equipping my insufficient defense mechanisms
we’ll see what happens

american man
attire and all

no name
new land
rewinding for former dance

i’ll be a virgin again
with new flowers

1950’s american christmas concrete
all in black and white

i can catch myself pre-american father
with long intervals between liberation

finding life still in unoccupied eyes
subconsciously connected to the calendar countdown
with an eye for all of the pretty little things

pre-american husband
pre-american divorcee
a sick man in abandonment of sick men
and their control-crazy cultures

a man: as bizarre as the earth and the mother herself

there’s nothing normal about what’s normal to you

i feel as if i’ve been granted a peak at the ending
i hope to see all the things i’ve seen
still looking for ways to look back on yesterday

i’ve come to find that beauty is mostly sad
and i look forward to seeing you all again

(at the dinner table)
i’ll make it through the night
after bed’s a new chance
a new trap with the same night

the sun rising behind the apache pier
my first kiss i’ll never see again

heavy torso
heavy eyes
cold shoulders

everything’s out of reach
everything’s under control

locked away in the open
i’m fine
stacked teetering
inside the comfy confines of my assigned suit
in line to make an appointment

tired of empty
in debt for all of these gifts

and we had a decent time
a part of the window collection
in remembrance
the presentation

(The Last Poem Before I Die)

' GuestGenre '

Joined May 2012

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  • petitoiseau
  • vivica
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