Edited by Tom Miller
I sit quietly
in my room
listening
to the noise
of cars
lawnmowers
birds chirping
and an occasional
squeak
as my butt
shifts in its chair
so many years
have passed
in preparation
where I studied
I was to discover
something
become famous
or at least rich
marry some kind
and/or beautiful woman
growing old together
as our children
matured
and had children
of their own
it would have been
a big, happy family
with a house
two cars
appliances
stereo
television
computers
but now
alone in the dark
having failed at all that
there was nothing left
but to drink
and die
SHIT
I had made
up my mind
to avoid cigarettes
and alcohol
but as days passed
found myself
smoking ever more
and more packs
started buying them
in cartons
drank ever more
and more beer
started buying it
by the case
eventually
switching
to the hard stuff
finding it impossible
to get up
in the morning
and go to work
finding it tough
to get up at all
except for a drink
and a smoke
not mowing my lawn
not washing my dishes
not cooking
not eating
not writing poems
and began to see
that this was
my destiny
I would die
in a small room
happily drunk
not giving a fuck
about anything
THAT NIGHT
I gave her up
told her to find
someone else
it didn't
take long
maybe a week
and then
saw them together
walking into a restaurant
watched as they
had a nice
quiet dinner with wine
and laughter
I didn't care
anymore
I thought
but as I drove
home that night
imagined
what their night
would be
and fought back
the tears
as I aimed my car
for the upcoming
semi
THREE CROWS
Three crows
perched in a tree
the first said
he would
find the cure
for a new disease
write tomes
of literature
put all his emotions
into words
paint the world
in all its colors
compose music
to soothe
the savage cat
fuck all the beautiful
female crows
in the world
fly to the top
of every mountain
and shit
on every shiny
new car hood
the second just squawked
for he was but a crow
while the third
sat perched
and watched
the other two
fall to their deaths
HOW MANY?
How many days
months
years
have I spent
waiting for some
woman
to come along
and love me
while I sat
at the bar
talked to this
that
or the other bitch
waiting for some
sign
so that maybe
I could make
my next move
what it would
be like
to finally take off
her clothes
bring my lips
to hers
caress her body
and make
sweet
gentle
love
but it was
not to be
even now
I sit alone
with a gun
the hammer cocked
ready to raise
the barrel
to my head
POEMS FOR FUCK AND DEATH by REINHARD PALOVCIK