Archive for the 'poem' Category

play some didge

August 30, 2007

I’m still wondering.

What will my life be like
when I stop?

the hustle hustle hustle
the cry cry cry
and the cry and the hustle
and the tears and the beg and the cry
and the goddamn hustle that never ends?

That is what I do.
You have No Fucking Idea.
(no.)

I’m a lawyer in the least sense
(quantity)
but an advocate in the most sense
(quality)
Maybe you’re lucky.
Don’t you have the tears and the beg and the cry that follow
your waking
into your sleep?

If I keep doing this,
I could technically play that goddamn song on a loop
for the rest of my goddamned life.

Hustle and Cry.  Cry and Hustle. 
Repeat.

I try to get out and then I hear children’s voices. 
Inside and out…side of me. 

The next song.

“I Like Fish and Mango Pickle”

Tell your Dude. 

(your dude might be playing hard 
her drums in the basement
she will surely tell the mama
the mama who is making whatnot and emily-salad upstairs.)

That is crazy future talk.  But goddamnit –
  their Dude will have a basement
(with egg-crate siding or whatever)
to play her drums every goddamn day.  Those kids
will not live in a place that their Dude
  does not have that kind of space.

Their Dude will play her drums freely. 
  And those kids with their mama and their Dude?
(Fuck you)

They will play freely. 

one more

August 13, 2007

one more cigarette i just might
just one more bottle of beer even though
midnight has come and gone and gives
me just one more thought.

listen again, just once more to make sure
that there’s nothing wrong
even if there is
we probably don’t notice anymore

one more cigarette
i just might remember what i was thinking
when i told you that thing
about that song that mattered more

reminder
your space is what you make it
anymore

just one more bottle of beer
even though
midnight is a silly concept

i am thinking about the bbq ribs
and the philadelphia roll together
like chinese and japanese
people are
part of the same neighorhood

midnight has come
and gone
but it gives more than it gave.

listen again to that song some more
it hasn’t hit me yet
with my harsh words
i can’t tell

just one more thought
for me
for you
for us

listen to that song again
one more cigarette
one more beer
one more midnight
one more thought

stop

March 2, 2007

you are the first person in my life that
doesn’t tell me to stop smoking
or to stop drinking so much rum
or to stop drinking so much of anything

because you are the first one
who gave a shit
about the future because you
have always wanted
yourself dead

you wanted your life to STOP

and TO STOP would mean
to STOP and that is
nothing less than giving up
and giving up is less than you are worth.

and there is no giving up on you,