How bad is it?
I have an invitation
To visit Finland
Not sure am I
How sincere is it
I'd like to believe
Deeply truly
Love to learn
Something good 'n' eager
Awaits
To delight me
In that cold still vacuum
How bad is it?
Conjure hockey vodka darkness
Mad midsummer
Naked steam frenzy
In the ice and black waters
And forests
I can see myself
Rowed to death
Chattel froze over
Voice immobile
No way out
And nowhere to go
How bad is it?
Dry here
Just dust
My bath and blanket
Frogs stopped jumping
James Brown
Resounds in my mind's
Chest
Can't tell if the thing on the wall's
Alive
Or the wind's just blowing
It to and fro
A guy's Mom's dying
Wants money and religion
I got none
How bad is it?
Well I licked the blues
Relieved myself of a great
Burden
Gone way under
All the way
Through to the other side
Alas no rest on that shore
It started to crawl
Twist and supurate
I grasp but cannot hold
Embrace but fold
What looked so bold
Now is old and getting older
How bad is it?
When you don't care
If your teeth rot
Your mind silts up
You're stained and tainted
And completely satisfied with yourself
And all you survey
You're even thinking charitably
How bad could it be?
3 comments:
Just take it easy on the teeth, OK? The little shepherds covered the topic exhaustively, and personal experience has taken some of us to places 'beyond poetry', if there is such a place. We might have to discuss it with the Colonel. I've heard that he's been invited in. I hope that the Rebel Yell has arrived.
Only two rules in the Spartan Bar, both established by the Colonel himself: 1) you don't have to take a drink if you don't want one, but if you take a drink you have to finish it; and 2) turn off the lights when you leave. Rules to live by.
Hope is not a method; you must make it happen. Just a cold one will do, but leave the politics at the door. A man needs rest, too.
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