Tag: doom

getting trane’d

A poem about perception.

I have only ever been good for two things.
no matter like the valles of Mars
my thew twists in to canyons,
veins like rivers running red through them.
a walking fucking island.
when is it over?
when can i stop?
when daylight and i drop.

i chew gum to stop me from chewing my warts
and my nails are broken in two.
ive only ever been good for two things,
when you look close enough and the cracks start to show
but youre always too busy with your rebute.
when it it over?
when do you stop?
when an island becomes a mountain
and daylight and i drop.

//jf 3.28.2021

Photo by Mumtahina Tanni on Pexels.com

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sting is his own worst yoko ono

A poem.

art is sabotage.

what are we really like, beneath
our own justification?
what rationale does one have
to corner the written word like water
or oil?
where do we stand outside the issues?
not within reach
but beyond?

“excuses excuses,
all you give me is excuses.”
then give me a reason.

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murky depths in shallow water

A poem.

it’s the start of another cold day.
i am standing on a bridge above a creek
that makes a rushing sound as it crosses
the linn before the pier shafts.
i have an entire half-a-joint left and i am done.

as i listen to the water flow,
so do the thoughts that would deluge
any if they stood on that same precipice,
that wearing surface at three AM,
stoned and very aware.
not that anyone would care about my bouts with chance and disrepair.
should.
but it’s how i feel

and there again, another day,
as distant constellations fade with the night.
a light on the horizon,
a constant.
there is a candle burning somewhere bright.

//jf 1.20.2021

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

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