Category Archives: Outlaw poetry

Replace the Wolves

In the occupation of childhood
nightmares bear fruit
in a fear of unknown weapons
wrapped with skin
adorned with teeth

the civilization in which these weapons were wrought
a “grown up” world
beautifully textured
outrageously detailed
just shy of mythological
replace the wolves of fables

a child wanderer
not ready for battle
with the harsh elements
of the nature of beasts
is separated

apocalypse

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Outside

Outside the wall of civility
snake pit recesses
freeze us in terror
to be still, not to be seen
we are the prey

in the tangle of tress
we become naked
vulnerable
the world is not ours

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Rats and Squirrels

The nightmare,

continued

even after the old man left.

 

my grandmother

burned down the farm

headed to the mountains

full of bad memories and liquor.

 

my father’s curse,

the inheritance;

a pile of debris

left now to rats and squirrels.

 

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Wreaths of Wild Flowers

Beyond the silence of

bark and scented leaves

torched

by proud invasion

 

Away from the living

spliced in darkness

the dead accept

their wreaths of wild flowers

 

A home,

amongst distorted legends

fading epitaphs and pictographs

 

Among thorns

condemned

they sing

songs of death

endlessly

through the seasons

 

It is hardly a solemn ending

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The Living Graveyard

Here is where I exist

a dung heap of

wood panelling

Nick knacks

and

dead appliances

 

Watching my reflection

In a smoke grey table top

Gnashing into a cheesesteak

 

Out in the shed

A box filled with Dad’s hidden stash of ‘70’s Penthouse Magazines

and a half a case of ancient Schmidt’s

 

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Remote as the Moon

Remote

as the moon

 

beyond

barns

and busted fences

 

drawn to

open streams

and springs

 

through weeds

sending out shooters

thick in damp

I go in

 

Guts twisted like a vine

from a dew

that brings men from drier places

 

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Filed under History, Outlaw poetry, poetry

Violations 

1964

Lenny Bruce

bankrupt

and guilty
up against the wall

rejected

by Jew

and Catholic alike
dangerously

ironic
burning

all the symbolism

in a

crudely poetic

monologue
busted laughter

escapes

old beats,

business men

in unfamiliar surrounds

and cashed up strippers
terrorized and

sleepless,

outside

this time

and

amongst garbage,

I wrap my skin

in skins

a kinda make shift

protection

from

constant

ass kickings
THUD!

another busted head
Fuck,

just

page after page

of violations
It’s all make believe,

all of it,

even if it happens

at 1 in the morning

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Filed under History, Outlaw poetry, poetry