Poem: Might Have Been a Friend in the End

I wrote this today. Surprising uninspired by anything in my life. Enjoy!

Might Have Been a Friend in the End

Kid got lucky,
in those first few years,
played some songs,
we bought him a few beers.

One night around Jimmy the keep,
we listened and thought,
about where the Kid was,
and the life he had bought.

Cause one night he packed up and left,
down a one way street,
somewhere in Harlem,
Jimmy, Fekman, and I, still tapping our feet.

Found something better,
on the other side,
he must have thought,
stick on the metal of ride.

The band spend some time on the road,
and we watched him get a little lost,
he’d never call, not his thing, or ours for that matter.
We were the old shoe that he tossed.

We were proud,
like three men watching someone
we never knew but cared about,
out in the world having some fun.

After a while,
got wind of the next big thing.
Skipped one of his albums,
and gave my girl a ring.

There were other things on my mind
for a while, and the lights on the Kid’s stage had to dim.
And if he had forgotten from where he came,
then where he came from was just eventually going to forget him.

No one blamed him,
he had things he wanted to do,
and when he left home,
it was a few days before any one knew.

With friends like us,
it’s no wonder he left.
I just hope he never thought,
that to his music, I was deaf.

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Poem: Haiku

Haiku??? You exclaim. Yea well get off my back. It’s something to read. There’s a picture, and I’m already planning on putting a ficly up later today anyway. Short story is still in the works.


Those bright slats of light
from betwixed vertical blinds leave
warm stripes on the rug.
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Poem: The Local Newspaper

Trying new things again. Working on the short story pretty heavily right now. Took a break to do this.

“The local newspaper
is in everyone’s mailbox
and less than half of them read it.
And when the front page
announced the fifty dollar first prize
for the library raffle,
I wonder if anyone cared.
And I wonder if they find
a copy of that paper
in fifty years,
if our little town’s big news
will matter then.”

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Poem: Buy This Poem

I sorta like this one. Different genre, different subject matter. Mixing it up a bit. Tell me what you think.

Take your world,
It’s less than fair,
What do you know?
What do you care?


Sell to the people you love,
Love to the people you sell.
Welcome to America,
This is your hell.


And while you’re dreaming,
It’s late in the hour,
You think you’re missing something big,
You have no power.


You’re buying something you can’t control,
and it doesn’t cost a dime.
You’ve got that special urge to consume,
It’s taking up all your time.


Someone is playing you,
You’ve forgotten what’s important,
and you just can’t seem to think,
what here seems so disproportionate.


Until you know you’re lost.
You can’t take to the streets,
You can’t search for an answer,
Just take your seats.


This is what you’ve bought.
This is where you belong.
The censor is their greatest gift.
Is that really so wrong?


Then one day you stop to question.
Something seems amiss.
And you’re looking up,
From within that impossible abyss.


And that’s when you ask why,
with all this controversy,
didn’t we speak sooner,
when someone might have listened to me?

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