from "Corea"

Going forward with my plan to post, with some kind of discretion, old poems in the next few months so as to develop a sort of online, "bgoing" collection, here is one in a long list. (Specifically posted with friends in mind, this is not about anyone in particular, but was written in a setting similar to what they now experience. More or less dedicated.)


Hard Nights, Dark Curves

The gargoyle’s eyes glow.
His frostbit frame
clutches snow.
He puts me on edge,
but I fall
into his gaze again;
get lost
in this blank space
daze again.

He sweats in puddles,
unforgiving
devil-son;
always tempting me
with loss of mind.
Always ready
to put me on.
Vice alone,
my virtue’s gone.

Pity on me.
He takes no pity on me.

Temptress
in the black light room,
piercing eyes
that eclipse the moon,
asks me what I want.
But she doesn’t care
what I want,
unless it gets her paid.

Her long bare legs
reach stilettos.
Her long dark hair
drapes over
her shoulders,
and I want only to talk.
I want someone
to join me
for a walk. 

Happy once,
lonesome vagrant sorrows.

Serpent
in the tree of knowledge,
pandora’s box
was a flask of vodka
and boredom;
one person
with nothing to do
and no one
to do nothing with.

Walks alone
along cobblestone,
away from home,
I haven’t been there
in so long.
Always on the go.
Headed with no
destination known.

Pushing on
cause I got nothin better to do.

Missionary stars
drown in the city’s flood
and constant buzz
of begging
neon lights.
Firestorms
into the night;
glowing gods
in a firefight.

Polyester promises from
flippant tongues,
everyone wants to think
they’re the one
to give me what I need,
but it’s all based on
their own greed.

Here’s my drink
and here’s my problem.

The second hand ticks
like icicles melting –
necessary evils
with no escaping
and the clocks
march on,
reminding me
of all my time
lost.

The sun melts the day
but then it goes away
and the moon
freezes night
and we’re left to pray
until the sun comes back around.
But that’s just
another day.

Pressing like an army,
time overtakes me.

On days
when clouds leave,
the sun beguiles,
I sit
and contemplate life
for a while.
Clocks don’t really exist.
People try
to challenge Life
for their business.

The statues
atop the cathedral
fall into the snow
as the day thaws
and the sun
comes back around,
revealing everything
I’d once lost.

The world’s not collapsing,
but it sure is a struggle.