STANZALONE
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
It begins in solitude at 3 am
When drum rolled thoughts
beat against
moments grown long,
beat against
moments grown long,
and moments forgetting
When the zzquil kicks in
and shreds away on the
mattress where you lay,
like clowns without sound-
Clowns without music.
Those moments not mentioned
when you finally get it
when you finally get it
and there’s nobody there
in the kitchen to witness--
It is in solitude at 3 am,
It is,
and the motherfucker
always wins.
It is in solitude at 3 am,
It is,
and the motherfucker
always wins.
Trailer Park Boys
They should have saved more time
for reflections in the mirror,
but leisure hours passed
with their tongues hung up in bottles
licking smoke and sailing on
towards a castle made of stank
and day old booze.
They were insects displayed on a pin-
exposed, helpless and unable to explain themselves,
exposed, helpless and unable to explain themselves,
but concealed their worries with clown trickery-
Drowning their calamities
in a kiddy pool filled
with Captain Morgan
and hillbilly blues.
with Captain Morgan
and hillbilly blues.
You should have seen it, the place was a mess-
Empty cans thrown into sinks,
cigarette butts floating lifelessly
Empty cans thrown into sinks,
cigarette butts floating lifelessly
Posters that read: “Keep calm. Get your redneck on”
stood staring back at me,
like a bad song
forever on repeat.
stood staring back at me,
like a bad song
forever on repeat.
I remember the voices like the back of my hand
and the music from a farther room.
and the music from a farther room.
I know the eyes already
like they were my own
because I almost felt they were
I almost felt this place was a part of my heart
But it flickered and ached when not around.
The trailer park should have been
our worst of times,
coated in ignorance and a wall of shame-
But it wasn’t
and it was
and it was all so beautiful
either way you look at it.and it was all so beautiful
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
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