Saturday, November 8, 2008

Poetry You Didn't Ask For...

Once upon a time, I was a poet. I felt like I needed a sturdy occupation to fall back on should my midwestern theatrical career fail to put food on the table. Shortly after I was married, I enjoyed a brief and meteoric rise to the top of the Dayton, Ohio Slam Poetry scene. Here is the poem that won me ten whole dollars one night at the Canal Street Tavern. To this day, I cannot be sure if I won on merit or the appearance of my ass in a pair of black leather pants. You be the judge...

between the euphoria
of ending my education
the pushed down a flight of stairs
let-down of the real world

I managed to drop myself
an uncomfortably real situation

In a cloud of confusion
made thicker
low self esteem
and a selective lack
of self awareness

I survey the grounds
of my self imposed
white trash
complete with snoring fat guy
and I wonder how I might
describe on paper
for posterity
the depths to which
my once promising life
has sunk

off key karaoke love
in horny desperation
drunk on undivided adoration
and coca-cola
he's got a full set 
of teeth
and a job

There is no
solution to this dilema
as a rousing chorus of
"I told you so"
is performed
by my family and friends

I hear him now
like a chainsaw
through petrified wood
lousing the apartment
with the aroma
of an outhouse in the woods

There is an empty can
of Dr. Pepper
dripping days old
caramel colored goo
onto a framed picture
of myself at 8 years old

joyful me
dressed to apprentice
the 20th century
by the fruits
of my misguided
love nest

I could sneak out
in the middle of the night
my books won't fit
in the trunk of my car
and my wardrobe is too vast
and I am
too lazy
to construct
a get away plan

Tonight we celebrate
the 6 month anniversary
of our sham of a romance
he's asleep
and I'm wondering
if he might stay that way
for the duration
of my two week notice
I'm wondering if he would notice
I was gone
would he wonder why I left?

If I sit here long enough
if I wait long enough
will my brain rot,
ass atrophy
ideals liquify
into a puddle
of once bubbly ooze
spreading over what might have been?

blog comments powered by Disqus
Related Posts Widget for Blogs by LinkWithin