From the Gutters

Ideas so absurd and vulgar

Night could not hide the stench

And No light could burn away

The sights so pungent

The fright so putrid

Making it seem so bright

From one so dark

And so vainly stupid

The following is a collection of verse born from internal suffering and hatred trying to work it’s way out of the body. I know what you’re thinking and you’re right: 

We don’t want to witness your dreary memoir. Good god what a bore to hear and what a load to bear.

So here goes...

.

Pauper's Grave

He was just right here

Trip on him,
 on me way out d' door

Weren’t my fault at all

Poor man dyin’ on the naked ground

Cold, curled baby style

Lost his life...

Treat him with grace
hide the boy's face

Lost his poor soul 
round here someplace

Dis' block, one over....
... or one 'fore dat

Don’t matter, he lost now

Won’ never be back

Some mama’s baby lookin for all the world
 like he was cryin

And needin’ her arms to rock 
him back to life

Someplace Mama sit quiet 
not knowin, 
nor rememberin’

she once had a baby 
Jack

go quiet baby

go quiet ol’ man

there’s no salvation

no salvation

no reason to ever look back

seek something else now son

something more than life

life never promised never gave

what you get from life is what you take

and what it takes from you is life
don't look back angry
 resist the glance

And realize now 
you never 
had 
a 
chance

We latch on

like we can make a difference together.

Like somehow we are stronger as two,

when we may be twice as weak.

The compliment or the contradiction?

The wind or the weight?

Which are we?