FEELING I GET
When I stare West
I see my anatomical heart
Lying, face toward the sky
on the shoreline
Slowly salty water
wash away,
coursing,
all my scars
Proudly
As I never gave up– Caesar
SLIDE
I stub you
Every time they crash
My rage and your ass
I can’t contain,
Same old glory of wounding,
Forget needful meds
hands wide open on your stretched ribs
I choke your throat
And finally, here I am
I’m a beast raised as a loner
Face of human kind
Stubs don’t stop
Stubs don’t stop
Stubs never stop– Caesar
It’s none of their business that you have to learn to write. Let them think you were born that way.
– Ernest Hemingway
DETAILS
Joseph and Maria
Walking
He, approaching the air
Awaiting her handI admire, sharing my side
With this beauty
Which I like, she
A hint of a smileYou still not done, boy
I go looking for what I was denied
Can you get it?
Empty cigarette smoke fliesThe waiter
Has lost his love
He cries, while
asking what we would likePlease to meet you,
I’m this instant
I’m endless
I’m in any road, any room
Any open shell, any brawl
Any farewell, any tollAny caress, any sex
Any breath, even the last you’ll getI’ll be past
forever
for you, reading
this verse– Caesar
THE BLUEBIRD
There’s a bluebird in my heart that
Wants to get out
But I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
To let anybody see
You.There’s a bluebird in my heart that
Wants to get out
But I poor whiskey on him and inhale
Cigarette smoke
And the whores and the bartenders
And the grocery clerks
Never know that
He’s
In thereThere’s a bluebird in my heart that
Wants to get out
But I’m too tough for him,
I say,
Stay down, do you want to mess
Me up?
You wants to screw up the
Works?
You want to blow my book sales in
Europe?There’s bluebird in my heart that
Wants to get out
But I’m too clever, I only let him out
At night sometimes
When everybody’s asleep,
I say, I know that you’re there,
So don’t be
Sad.Then I put him back,
But he’s singing a little
In there, I haven’t quite let him
Die
And we sleep together like
That
With our
Secret pact
And it’s nice enough to
Make a man
Weep, but I don’t
Weep, do
You?– Charles Bukowski