to the living dead
Everything’s charmful, Mr. Boar Black Beard,
Healthy Mr. Poet.
A dozen paychecks a year and jellybean in a pocket-coat
From the recoiled millionaires, you stole a tear
From the down and out ‘lil maid in a creekside dump, you stole a laugh
Smoking a cigar on the balcony, passing the cavaliers your words of gentle advice
Singing telephone songs over the birch whispers
Rust on your skin through the years
And someday you’ll be dead
Mr. Poet, oh you beautiful larky green-eyed queen on your life’s peak
Linger on; drop your shadow, once, twice more
Where the mountaintops shine pure beneath the weight of pipes and machinery
Look into a mirror and write on it with a sharpie black
Put some lipstick on and go out with a laugh
Stuff your suitcase with papyrus prints
Buy a ticket to the ends, the atmosphere is playful
Go out into the rain and ask someone what their meaning is
Fall out of grace; raise some ruckus, dear Mr. Poet
Usurp a moss throne; reclaim your underground growl,
Smog and dirt,
Dear Mr. Poet! That’s all there ever was.
If you want, Go! Kick down each door.
Or
In the darkness shiver alone, a long October night through
Atop a frosted hill, where dew and dogshit fill the crevices
Where moonshine illuminates stillness, movement
There you lay shivering, awake and getting number in your sweatshirt
And nothing is the same, and nothing is the same, and nothing ever will be
Healthy Mr. Poet.
A dozen paychecks a year and jellybean in a pocket-coat
From the recoiled millionaires, you stole a tear
From the down and out ‘lil maid in a creekside dump, you stole a laugh
Smoking a cigar on the balcony, passing the cavaliers your words of gentle advice
Singing telephone songs over the birch whispers
Rust on your skin through the years
And someday you’ll be dead
Mr. Poet, oh you beautiful larky green-eyed queen on your life’s peak
Linger on; drop your shadow, once, twice more
Where the mountaintops shine pure beneath the weight of pipes and machinery
Look into a mirror and write on it with a sharpie black
Put some lipstick on and go out with a laugh
Stuff your suitcase with papyrus prints
Buy a ticket to the ends, the atmosphere is playful
Go out into the rain and ask someone what their meaning is
Fall out of grace; raise some ruckus, dear Mr. Poet
Usurp a moss throne; reclaim your underground growl,
Smog and dirt,
Dear Mr. Poet! That’s all there ever was.
If you want, Go! Kick down each door.
Or
In the darkness shiver alone, a long October night through
Atop a frosted hill, where dew and dogshit fill the crevices
Where moonshine illuminates stillness, movement
There you lay shivering, awake and getting number in your sweatshirt
And nothing is the same, and nothing is the same, and nothing ever will be