Soliloquy

Soliloquy

Little fagot on a couch

His neck stretched out and screaming

That I was a paranoid,

The feathers on his neck

Fluffed and ruffled. I'd go crazy

Living in this house

Alone with Bach, four cats and silence

In the interims.

They tell me I am crazy now.

I don't see a difference.

I had a friend I thought I liked

Who yesterday disowned me.

In half an hour, I shall see

The other friend, who's sick.

Then home again, and nothingness.

I do not like to read.

Type some more of Beckie's verse?

Format what I've written?
Self-publishing is an illusion.

One needn't sleep to dream.

11-10-13

 

Lines

As you become more gentle,

My love for you increases.

I've seen the worst.

Come home and live with me.

I copied Beckie's poems,

Immersed as in a sea,

And I've assumed

Her feeling and her style.

I am a chameleon.

So who the hell am I?
Push me anyway you like,

And that's the way I fall.

11-10-13

 

Pros

Every damned professional

Who skulks across the planet

With two or three diplomas

And a passion to control.

On this the world considers itself

Grown and civilized.

Keep your place and stay in line

And say what he's expecting.

Cops and psychotherapists

And very nice recruiters.

11-11-13

 

Poems

I don't want to write another poem!

They're muddy and they're murky

And nobody likes tradition.

Myself I hate traditions

But the rhythm in a poem.

She said I write like rap. I could have

Thrown a cup of coffee!

50 years of writing -

Little praise, no recognition.

I earned a hundred dollars selling books.

I won't be rich in heaven

And forgotten on the earth.

Just another poetaster -

Mediocre, paranoid -

With an aging deathless urge to write.

11-11-13