deepundergroundpoetry.com
high noon
coffee, black.
tobacco, Halfzware shag
or some other Belgium bullshit
that stinks of distinction
and that whiney bastard
with those poignant and beautiful songs
spills continuously over my melancholy
quenching the parched dirt
of my inspiration.
The moon speaks on my back porch
at noon on the brightest day of the year.
I know I don't have a decent poem in me
except to the woman I'll never meet
yet I am inclined to weigh out the alphabet
to intensify the anticipation of waiting
until that agony explodes into the understanding
that every last thing is completely absurd
the universe couldn't care less how we feel
tobacco, Halfzware shag
or some other Belgium bullshit
that stinks of distinction
and that whiney bastard
with those poignant and beautiful songs
spills continuously over my melancholy
quenching the parched dirt
of my inspiration.
The moon speaks on my back porch
at noon on the brightest day of the year.
I know I don't have a decent poem in me
except to the woman I'll never meet
yet I am inclined to weigh out the alphabet
to intensify the anticipation of waiting
until that agony explodes into the understanding
that every last thing is completely absurd
the universe couldn't care less how we feel
Published 25th Apr 2013
| Edited 26th Apr 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 5
reading list entries 1
comments 2
reads 108
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
28th Apr 2013 4:17pm
Wonderful poem!Love it!!
Favorite lines
"The moon speaks on my
back porch at noon on the
brightest day of the year "
"I know I don't have a
decent poem in me except
to the woman I'll never meet "
Favorite lines
"The moon speaks on my
back porch at noon on the
brightest day of the year "
"I know I don't have a
decent poem in me except
to the woman I'll never meet "
28th Apr 2013 5:10pm
