Month: February 2017

false alarm

last night I was outside
the regular haunt,
in the doorway, smoking, when
I saw someone come around
the corner, see me,
and promptly turn around
to go back
from whence he came.
I didn’t see
his face, so I was
briefly confused, until
a minute later you
came back, breezed right
by me and went to talk to
some people who
have yet to learn
how much of a snake
you really are.

Continue reading false alarm

speechwritten II

maybe I’m wrong
for being a little bit annoyed
that in your touching tribute
in which you read my words
as if you had written them
you preferred to keep the author
anonymous.

maybe you wanted
to make me mad
because my words taste better
well-seasoned with
fiery rage.

Continue reading speechwritten II

on rereading some of my old poems

wow, those were the days.
I wrote some halfway decent
shite. some of them
were dumb but some were
not at all awful. why is it
that when I try to write
a new one, it always seems
to come out wrong?

I’m out of the habit
of looking at the world
as inspiration for poetry
these days. now I think
more of songs and less
of poetry. my muse has changed
her clothes. she hums
in my ear now instead
of whispering. you’d think
they’re pretty similar –
what are songs if not
poems set to music? –
but to me they aren’t at all
the same. Terpsichore
rules my days now
instead of Euterpe.

missed II

oh, you’re here. of course
you missed our set. I
don’t know whether to be
mad or relieved. hearing
your obnoxious bellowing
probably would have
distracted me. and the sight
of your ugly mug
has made me feel ill
for some time now.
so thanks for nothing,
I guess. why don’t you
throw yourself in the trash
where you belong?

airhorn

did you know
that there’s more to singing
than just blasting out
your full volume
like a fucking airhorn?
there’s a little thing
called subtlety.
look it up. also
maybe try watching
your pitch. the
only thing worse
than oversinging
is oversinging
while flat. this has
been a PSA from
my ears.

missed

it seems I somehow
missed your show.
I am not sure
how that happened.
I know I deserve zero credit,
but I did manage to realize it
before you announced
on stage that anyone
who liked your material
should have gone to your
show last week. once again
my lack of a time machine
bites me in the ass.

the shipper

there’s a lady here
who I’ve only met
once before. she knew you
before we even met.
her name is Jennifer
or Laura or Mary –
not Sue. we bonded
instantly and she said
she would come to my
show, but despite
an email reminder,
she never showed.

she was one of the many
who saw how we
bantered and said
we made a good
couple, even though
we weren’t. she got a
Moonlighting vibe
from us. she
shipped it.

welp, the writers fucked up
our storyline, and
now I’ve got a new
love interest. so
much better for me
than you. I’d love
to introduce her to him,
but I can’t for
the life of me
remember
her name.

crimes III

this was the worst yet. a
full sprawl in front of
a packed house, and during
a quiet song, just to add
insult to injury – of which
there was plenty. I tried
so hard to catch myself, but
as usual that just
made it worse. I did an
extended pratfall
worthy of a clown
in a circus. except
that it hurt.

and somehow
the worst part was
how various people asked
if I was okay. I’m always
so angry and humiliated
by my shameful,
awkward clumsiness
that any acknowledgement
of a tumble, any attention paid
feels like it might as well be
outright pointing and/or
laughing. that’s why I pretend
to laugh it off and
act like it’s no big deal,
because all I really want to do
is to be allowed to run away
and gather whatever shreds
of dignity remain to me
in private, or at least
where other people are
who didn’t see my downfall.

but belatedly,
thank you, gentle
friends and
random strangers.
I do appreciate
your concern and
common human decency.
next time I’ll probably
not be any more gracious
in accepting your sympathy
than I was in crossing
the damn room.