Hello and good morning! Below are two of my original new poems! Hope you understand and enjoy!
That Beautiful Homeless Junky has a Bright Bright Future as a Sad Sad Writer
It probably started as a teenager, right after she got pregnant at 15. Now I see her plodding the streets Always alone Arms sliced, black polka-dots wrapped like a dying serpent around her flesh-eaten limbs.
She doesn’t dig in the trash but that’s what people tend to call her. But her long black hair and her mile long eye lashes tells us she was once beautiful
(not only on the inside but the outside too)
And with those fresh railroad tracks and soars on her face she charges a blowjob a shot while her man serves time. A cheap lover with no more love to Give Take Lend
Just a loaded gun that shoots water turned a sludgy brown, fluttering her eyelashes that hang halfway from the cracked windows which will never be repaired. And all I can say is, as I look at this beautiful disaster:
“That beautiful homeless Junky has a bright bright future, as a sad sad writer.”
We Wait Like Dogs
We wait like dogs for death and breakfast: two eggs over easy with a side of heartburn that tastes better than any dried up sandwich from some shitty drive thru we refuse to wait for.
We wait like dogs, tails wagging, tongue swaddling for sentences given by criminals with fancy cars and compassion fatigue.
We wait like dogs for the mailman to bring bills we can’t pay, more junk mail that floods our mailboxes and oceans, making our insomnia flourish to levels we never knew existed.
We wait like dogs for the other to get home, for the arguing, the insults, the confirmation that love and lust are only temporary.
We wait like dogs for the car to be fixed at the price of an arm and a leg, or the bus driven by a miserable asshole to arrive ten minutes late, to take us to a job we can’t stand, that doesn’t pay the bills the mailman brings so we occasionally sink our teeth in this back of his skull and wonder why? Why he chose to be this sort of filthy messenger?
We wait and we wait for the first or next big deal, for the check that’ll never come as long as you’re alive for the movie to hit DVD Netflix, for the cigarettes to go down in its colossal price.
But still we wait in line like dogs for the cancer we get from smoking Overpriced Cancer Sticks that leather our skin, empty our bank accounts and possibly our soul
(but hopefully make us chic like James Dean in the interim).
We wait like dogs for the sad sad break up so we can grab the rebound like Dennis Rodman, for bones that are broken and waiting to be fixed, for them to like our posts on
Twitter, while our literary heroes collect dust in our local libraries and schools.
We wait like mangy dogs for things that may have mattered at some point but not enough to dwell on Not enough to see that we wait for these futile things while our innocent blood pressure suffers the most,
and the gods wait patiently with open arms.