Just the other day I had felt like dying. My life was tired and old.
My white shoes were grass stained and reeking of bad poetry.
The mower was being held in contempt by the gas can
and both had just been informed of the higher cost of oil;
Due to the tremendous growth in the Chinese economy
and much higher than expected carbon emissions in India.
Bukowski was renting space in my head for free, while Ginsberg
Howled over the dandelions that were overtaking the lawn.
All fertilizer sales had been suspended, fears of
Homegrown terrorism was growing like weeds and widespread.
Rod McKuen had been apprehended and arrested
Shortly after nine by the department of Homeland Security
Caught cashing my checks from the Mexican government,
Using an illegal immigrant’s photo ID for proof of citizenship.
With most all of my autobiographical accounts overdrawn
“Insufficient funds” due to a liberal sense of entitlement
On the part of left wing politics, and subjugated to prosecution of fraud.
Dante wrote me that Hell had frozen over,
And he had moved to Miami to be closer to his dead mother.
Death was looking attractive as
Eighteen year old virgins talked of their affairs
While wearing their public nudity, like warrants
Arresting me, and tempting me with the suicidal promises
Of four hour erections,
And an elongated epic for better penetration.
I was sure I wanted to die, as my world was empty and I was alone…
When I heard that little voice in my head say
“Killing yourself because no one understands you is rubbish,
If you kill yourself, do it because everybody is on to you.”
2010 © T.S.
There was a knock on my door
it came at two twenty two
the parrot had stopped squawking
and the dog did not bark
I leaped from the chair
where I had fallen asleep
being taken by surprise
I managed to stumbled to my feet
wishing to escape
before they would finally realize
it was not me they were looking for
but a man in my disguise
__didn't they know
__they had all been told,
when cornered like a rat
I would fight to the death
not to be taken alive...
Grabbing the warm beer
which was next to my chair
I chug-a-lugged my last meal
while running my fingers through my hair
preparing to die
racing through the Lord's Prayer
would somehow be spared
the parrot started talking
'bout nineteen sixty nine
And how the war was a quagmire
and Nixon would resign.....
Begging to disagree
on the topic 'Dogs of War'
and the Parrot's cracker lodged in his throat
the dog he did finally bark
echoing the kind of remittance
that would send shivers
up ones spine....
The knocking abruptly stopped
and a strange voice yelled out from the hall
"Open the damn door you crazy old bastard
we need your room! ! ! "
T. S. ©2010
She sneaks up from behind me
and with her long fingernails
she gently strokes
the outside of my ears
circling my burning wagons
fanning the flames
with those hot kisses
which could only be her own
firing cupids arrows
into my battle weary heart
I surrender unconditionally
as she wins the war
the war that I began____
© 2007 T.S.