The raven
Whose night
Falls to
(A white)
Disco
Cross’d lite, skull
Overshadowed by
Lost souls:
Lit,
Exist
Under signs
Falsely gleaming EXIT.
Take yours,
Sad
Connoisseurs
Of German
Sourced-Synth.
Red-ruled
A sweet kid,
“To lost youth!”
Drinking gimlets,
Trusts
New wave
Brooklyn-Prufrock,
Before meeting “his”
Barbie Bukowski:
FUCK what you think of me,
(Soul
Uh-huh-
Uh-huh)
This is Independence
Day.
Freedom
From
Masochist,
Drug addict,
Cigarette habit,
Paper, transparent
As phone book
Lists,
Stacked like
Organic Cadillacs
Streetcars, sidecars,
Night caps, tipped hats
To street cats,
Empty manhattans:
The cherry of
Big Apple's
Bugged
Streets of dirty Manhattan,
Jazzy baby
Un-jailed again
Absurd!
“You’re mad! Absolutely absurd”
Aren’t I though?
I am not your
Zelda Sayre
In a Bar
-Red poem room!
Say her
Name again!
I am free-
Dumbed,
As you take
Your songs
From my blue
Diaries
(Pause your tunes)
I turn your table:
Now these written worlds
Will know
I am not a beautiful fool.
That was you,
And him,
And everyone who
Jazzed
Under neon signs
And forced sighs,
The cry of cocks,
To common crows
(Soul
Uh-huh
Uh-huh)
Dancing on my grave
As bluebirds slang,
Read the words
Of the beat’d
Verse
As a song
And not
The lines
Of mine
-Tomb
Stone cold
Bouquets in
February's
Bloodless bloom
The reeds
Of my novel-
Life
You
Claimed in skits
About my strife.
I will never be your
Good little
Earnest
Artist-
Wife.
I am the writer
Who brought you
All in.
Goodnight
Sweet
Disco
The bright light
That died
When I refused to
Write.
I’ll go on
(For no one
No thing
Save the
Raven
Of the
Dark
Who still
Sees the
Night against)
I can’t.
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