stream of consciousness – Page 50 – CONVERSATIONAL POETRY

——WAKE UP AT 6PM AND PEOPLE ASK ME IF I PARTY——

Strangers watching television in the living room and I don’t even realize that I’m at home. I was sure that I didn’t own a TV that size. Turns out that someone brought it over and jacked my Wi-Fi and they were watching antics at the Dylan household. Seems Bob was getting fresh stuffing for an evening out.

one leg thicker than the other

difficult upper teeth

cruel smiles

from his own premises

things were as they should be

Mister Bob Dylan in grade school boots

a gentleman and an intentional Christian

understanding his penis had gone Quixote

——NO SECRET, JESUS HAS THE BEST BICYCLE IN HEAVEN——

Private Jesus listens to Patsy Cline. Jesus has feelings too.

Heaven will give us employment

our work will supply us with pleasure

our work will never be completed no matter

People say that I loaned Johnny Cash money but that’s not true. I just gave him the funds. Johnny and June were family.

Johnny was the great Husbandman

June, his earthly garden

sometimes when the good stuff came to town

Johnny would hoot and holler

surely this is what our Lord meant

TOILING AND SPINNING/GOLD AND SILVER IN ABUNDANCE

standing in the shadows while their world is destroyed

poor devils on the evening news

knowing not what direction

they tumble or fall

Adele donated an acorn

(+) wavering and tossed about, weightless on Earth

mick jagger gives up music

becomes a lobster fisherman

drowns on the first day out

a poor choice of clothes

a poor choice of shoes

even in death

his brain

was still teeming

alert to everything

other bandmates squeezing

his dong in the casket

was it fair ?

RECOGNITION OF THE PROBLEM’S COMPLEXITY

ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A BUICK WITH FIVE HORNEY REDNECKS ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A BUICK WITH FIVE GAY MEN

Reality: a misquotation from Emily Dickinson:

you could borrow me

return me free of charge

I am a gift (often unopened)

THE GIFT NOT OPENED

Please do not count my number, just ignore me, I am yesterday before space grown cotton socks, before Mick Jagger, some woman singing about being a “woman”, I find myself, “the gift not opened”, possibly the same thing, perhaps once opened I would generate a large number of gifts, I am easily fascinated, liking both silence and noise, never a dull moment I might smoke and ingest, edibles and the strange world, smell me I remind lovers of a blossoming apple tree, dig up the grave of Robert Frost and send me visual proof, sometimes I exist in a TV Western but that is private, best friends with a benevolent hero, unfolding gay cowboys, untidy women who will put their cooter on display, ultimately unavoidable—Michael the gift, the gift unopened

——I CRAWLED IN THE COFFIN WITH JOHNNY CASH, HE WASN’T WARM BUT HE WAS SOFT

they asked me not to write anything, just rest my eyes and have happy thoughts

somewhere I could hear a circus passing, perhaps it was someone famous, a lion tamer in Mick Jagger socks

——POSTPONE DEATH: just a blink of the eye at the Mayr Clinic

they got their secrets

but it is just the baby blood

it opens your eyes

all those lies about growing old

how death is quick

painless

(+) before Death arrives, your space crowded with demons

——I WAS THERE THE DAY THAT THE BANK TELLER TOLD JOHNNY CASH THAT HE WAS OVERDRAWN. JOHNNY SMILED AND SAID, “NEVER YOU MIND”——

OUTSIDE IN THE TRUCK, JOHNNY CRIED.

unskilled in modern man’s falsehood

past crimes, prison fingernails

Johnny pretending to strum

singing one last time

“Wheelchair Cash”