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T infoil A ngels and burnt out NEON Chrismases
They are building the structrures..the grown tied off gingerbread men
and work slow ungecomes where the heroes of old put their thick band
of worth against their cock on an elastic..
someone knocks
its for your head
your old lady
your stash
or your bread
of its just business
hired up on the shit
finding cooking moments
my baby could shoot me between the eyes
if she had too
but she loved me
most chicks looking at the cheap loot
mine was watching security fringe
ankles for holsters
what was on the wrist
that was her treat
the bracelets
her mom died of TB while she was in
foster car near christmas
every dime earned opening up that sign
pulling that chain
and that bitch stole it
funeral was a week past
sent us across town to the hospital
finally met the Mrs's
pretty as the apple that fell from the tree
Cried her ten minutes worth
and we shouldered up
we knew where it would be
when we needed it
signed the forms
Charley was our favourite fly
on the strip
the biggest baddest deadest
fly probably died without making
a noise
our room got television
and we had a favourite movie
channel
we fucked like minks and
zipped up throwing out things
we needed
and kept stuff we just knew
we were going to use
She make a tree from folded
tinfoil from a take out dinner
King Lee
King of egg rolls and he was
the king of that town
the bamboo matt hung down
like a manifesto hung on a single
nail painted green pulled with
toe nail clippers
and slammed in with a thick
grade kitchen forensic knife
from the edge of town
It has seen it all
she tickled my hips
and I hugged her
a full body hug
when a saleslady
drove by
cept her eyes
was taking it all
in
wishing she was
here in my arms
for a second
and the lil gal
was in the backseat
digging dirt from
her nail with the
expensive pocket
knife
i bought her
on her ****th birthday
we left our angel
and the television
on when we checked out
the grey
brown
cars were never far
and in a tiny jar
we took our Charley
cause he saw us
through
to damn near
new year
was a tough year
69'
Comments
brittle light
Sun, 2014-12-14 00:13
some of the bits, a little
some of the bits, a little cryptic...but a fun and enjoyable activity; deciphering, decrypting. ...even if the scene were to be a sad one...eventually (hopefully) the whole intent becomes apparent.
your poetry is a challenge, but an engaging charm emanates from the images and words
that is enough to call you a favorite.
Al
Esker
Sun, 2015-01-04 02:59
some of these writes are from the darker venues
like over revving the engine...
Im sorry if I sounded like it was a sore spot.
I react harshly at times
sometimes my writing startles me
pushing sleep and the creative angles
are clear but not anything I would put
up normally
i dont think writing is normal
sometimes living is not normal
survival and its strangeness
of what lies imported and important
makes the characters more truer
to life then most
a lot of this comes from the very
long and tired roads I took
and kept too
i had options
the fly image comes from the old
belief by some cultures in summer
that the flies carried the spirit
and the old coiled fly strips
which were an acceptable norm
at one time and possible still
are seem very archaic now
as for the characters wishing they
were in my arms...I doubt this
nor have I had extended moments
where I considered pairing to be
more then a business venture
Gingerbread men are the workmen
in their dickie overalls
and the rest was a wry humor
eccentric to some past lovers
whom were nice and hardened
women..
Liked that I was odd
and could manage a house
enough
the funeral scenes I am
uncomfortable
having been to very few
of them.in real life.
a friend i had...after that
i doubt any more
everyone grieves different
and I am stuck in this formal
aptitude for the most
try as I might to break free
and be a wilder version
of self
most of my women I tend to give
in..most men stole from them
I liked how they put a meal into
me and put a roof up on my head
kept an eye out with their systems
sharing...
maybe i was a writer just never started
to write much until i found Neopoet
writing is intimidating
its extremely personal
however I do like that you call me
a favorite
the writing like the writers I like
have distinct styles and a lot of them
are bleak but not hopeless
just been a long time out here..
Thank You!
Esker
Sun, 2014-12-14 04:13
oh I am a favourite......by
oh I am a favourite......by many....
brittle light
Sun, 2014-12-14 15:22
??? did I hit a sore spot?
???
did I hit a sore spot?
Al
IKnowNoBox
Sun, 2014-12-14 15:47
I have two strings of lights..
I say Seasons Greetings. Nothing religious about this time of year really. A fine example of expectation, and appeasement. When it really gets down to it, it is all about the company one can maintain to ride out the harsh lonely of Winter. Nothing makes one remember like a cold ass night. Here you bring even the non-phenomenal, and often unattractive banality of daily life.. sliced by the month, the week, or the day..
Esker
Sun, 2014-12-14 19:15
No fave...no sore spot
we just get some
some more..
more less....
they used to be big deals in our place
but the budgets and cut backs..
run the fat and then run the lean
afterawhile you forget
fictionals most of my work
our city is doing okay
but we had folks who are doing well
giving us reports about people we know
dont even have to be there
anymore
its snowing out right now
should talk my dog for a walk
a quietness that just just know
somethings up somewhere
that kind of feeling...
but its beautiful
kind of reminds me of the hard times
those days I dont keep far
just glad neo is here to mark the passing
down...
thanks Neo! your're alright in my books!