poem: submariners and rum heads collide like daydreams in the night

this one goes out to all you sub-mariners and slackers,
and shiners, and surfers and lovers of all things,
and to those who said fuckit, and to those whose brains focused
like Leica lenses on the horizon of their futures,
missing the present like purgatorial paychecks.
you cash ‘em for peanuts that even squirrels
reject.

this one goes out to those with memories,
imagined or otherwise imprinted with
dreams of more than mediocrity. someone told me
yesterday – “yeah but most people are too scared to try,
to live. they’d never do that.”
and I says to myself -”yes indeed that is true.”
then I sat in front of the tube and died a little,
turned blue a little, and fried brain cells a little
-too tired to write or smite or even care.

this one goes out to the careless ones,
whose wrecked lives wreak of substances
and spilled beer, suds scouring their lives
like my past, with $25 JA shots of whites,
overproof like jet fuel, watered down hot.
“SERVICE!” the old rumhead smacked the counter
and banged on the chicken wire fence separating him
from the rum man. well sharpened cutlass laying
just below the counter. if the rum head wan
start some fuckery den I gwine cut him blood clot
seen.

this one goes out to all those too passionate
for desk jobs; to Johnny P, and Aurthur, and Bagga
and English. Solomon ran the herb shop up the street,
he could chant like the bobo dreads but he dabbled in
Babylonian tings like all everyman. everyman like
Walt Whitman’s but without the elitist birds eye view.
seen?

everything is everything. noise and traffic collide with truth
inna race to nowhere. information overload like
overpopulation. we do naught to traipse the line
of madness and lucidity. this one goes out to me, stamping
keys for joy, boredom, procrastination, need, greed,
ego, notoriety, plugs, and simple wantonness.

niceness like radness. all the noise dissipates
’till I cant type no more. no more.

partially inspired by Mr. Moynier. honored sir that you would stop by here to see what there is to see. and I dug up the Tiger Lillies and found this which did more for me today than the first 3 coffees ever could.

The Tiger Lillies- Living Hell from Mark Holthusen on Vimeo.

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