- Non-Erotic Poetry
- moneydeath
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Click hereHe was tall as a tree,
BMW chattered against
Guardrails at sunrise
Up all night being bad and gone for good.
Cops found a wad of hundreds
In his punk ass torn jeans-
Took the cash and swabbed the boyblood
Off his redhair face.
Fucking cops.
We got the news in our ritual
Darkmorning listenback,
The free music world
of surrender and fresh
Paintings drying
by the heater.
A dancer bent with hips and thighs and calves revealed.
Poor us, broccoli stalks and canned
Beans for breakfast-
We sang Sutras that meant nothing-
Wished we had Birthday cards to send
Years too late and decades removed.
I scape pennies for heaven-
Toss I ching and sing all
Knowledge and rememberance
for the poor rich bastards-
obvious they have never known
your freedom.
Kaddish she explains-
Fuzzy nape of candle days
And you-
yes, you,
aint takin nothin with but your soul.
- COMMENTS
YDDalmost 20 years agoI don't know of whom you write,
but I find the writing excellent.
You create strong imagery and emotion.
Well done!
Maria2394almost 20 years agooh, the littl egreen E I mean..this is potent, powerful and yeah, screw money. I have known too many people who would die for something as inane as a pocketful of dollars. wonderful poem, ee, thanks :)
especially liked the part about that wad of hundreds, very vivid image
