back in my day,
things were more complicated.
you had kids teaching children
lessons about consequence.
we learned together to ostracize the weak.
the games boys play.
i had my code book stashed away,
and when you lose lives like hurdles
and stain your nails
that even your own father wont play with you anymore,
it is important to remember to respect your elders
because they sure as Hell won’t respect you.
//jf 7.28.2021
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why would you want me?
there’s lots of boys like me in the city,
with my hair and my ambiguous tattoos –
a flair,
in an otherwise-mediocre affair.
“oh but i do, i do!” she cries
while we lay side-by-side,
“there is only one you!”
here, maybe –
now –
but where will your pristine heart really dare you to tread?
tomorrow? a year from now?
enough time to build a family –
a life,
only to have it torn from your grasp for spite
because i am one of a million
and you’re just a country girl.
one day you will wake up
and i still won’t be good enough for you.
//jf 6.16.2021
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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
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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
theory of a daskeman 