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$15,000 in debt
15,000 people
15,000 poems

crazy drunk singing

December 30th, 2013 § Poem #299 § 0 comments § permalink

 

I’m singing in a bar
not in front of people
but as the crazy drunk
in the corner
too happy with my life
that I can’t keep it in me
singing to myself
by myself
smiling
with myself
drinking my beers
looking
listening
writing
and just singing out my joy

 
af

 

 

(written in little notebook)

dollars in the box

December 27th, 2013 § Poem #298 § 0 comments § permalink

 

the jukebox wizard

feeding it my money
choice by choice ticking credits away
choice by choice blasting through the bar
strangely feeling satisfied by seeing the people
these random locals digging the vibe of
this random drunk trying what I can
to communicate with them.

when all the tongues are banished
when languages become untranslatable
when we have nothing in common but fear and angst
we got the music to thread it all together

we never talk
but we reach each other through the sounds of the box

 

 
af

 

 

(written in little notebook)

pen to paper

December 26th, 2013 § Poem #297 § 0 comments § permalink

 

You write everyday?
I try to.
That’s hard.
It’s usually just jibberish, but I try to at least get something down.
This what you tried to get me to do?
Yea.
I don’t know about that.
Do or don’t.
Yea.
I’ll take a beer, though.
Does that help?
Pen to paper.
Meaning?
When I’m stuck, it helps to just get the pen to paper.
Regardless?
Regardless.

 

 

af

 

 

(written in little notebook with pen on paper)

i ams who i ams

December 25th, 2013 § Poem #296 § 0 comments § permalink

 

I ams who I ams
by chance and by choice

It is not any more difficult
then trying to fit into a society

Trying to do my own thing
often forgetting that I am one
of a long lineage of pen & paper drifters

I could talk to these strangers
and not smell like weed
and be open minded
but am always disappointed at every effort;
This city has become a skipping record
an album stuck on repeat

And if this is what life is in this world I am here in,
And I know what is next,
And I know how it ends
then maybe the East is right
was right

that my soul is to become water
flow change through everywhere of life

Everything I have been
is a part
of the experience I am

 

 

af

 

 

(written in little notebook)

my mind is blank

December 24th, 2013 § Poem #295 § 0 comments § permalink

 

I stare at the bottles
beer after beer after beer
and yet I do not think
my mind is always blank

I watch people, women, bartenders
in and out all night
and yet I do not think
my mind is always blank

I daydream most of the day
since I was younger than a boy
and yet I do not think
my mind is always blank

Transgender on my right, drunk forlorn prostitute
talking to herself on my left
and yet I do not think
my mind is always blank

It all hurts inside of me
the blood, the cramps and throbbing
and yet I do not think
my mind is always blank

I claw through my brain
look around, laugh mock seeth
and yet I do not think
my mind is always blank

Then I shit, cum, grit teeth
cry all night till I pass out
and yet I do not think
my mind is always blank.

 

 

 

af

 

 

 

(written in little notebook)

where ya from?

December 23rd, 2013 § Poem #294 § 0 comments § permalink

 

Where Ya from?
Claiborne & Orleans
Where Ya from?
Bensonhurst, Bay 48th
Where Ya from?
Skagit, the Mountains, PacNW
Where Ya from?
Here & There
Where Ya from?
Calabria, Agrigento
Where Ya From?
Music, Creation
Where Ya from?
Down the block
Where Ya from?
Next town over
Where ya from?
Venice, the Beach
Where ya from?
Nowhere, really
Where ya from?
Does it really matter anymore?

 

 

af

 

 

(written in little notebook)

a night to notice

December 20th, 2013 § Poem #293 § 0 comments § permalink

 

“You sit in the corner of the bar, trying not to get noticed, but I feel all you want is to be noticed.”

“I’m just trying to be myself.”

“Boring and observant?  Hasn’t that been played before?  Aren’t you fifty years behind on that curve?”

“I am just trying to forget.  I have too many memories I’m trying to forget.  And the ones I like, well, the nostalgia of remembering but not having that life anymore is too much for me right now.  I’d prefer to sit alone, drink alone, rather than be judged.”

“You’re pretty straight forward.”

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