This is another ‘early’ entry. My pale imitation of a ‘Beat’ poem. Or is that ‘Poem I should be beaten for writing’?
Strange house morning
Nothing moving, Nothing seems alive
Except the bird outside an open window
That damned bird
Solitude and cold pizza is even too much to ask
Why bother getting up to look out and see another mundane sidewalk?
The jaws are working – Mastecation
A Bachelor and his reason for existence
Warm beer in a half washed cup
Luke warm at best
Television still buzzing in the next room
A complete loss of memory while the sun warms the neck
I can see stars and lilacs when I close my eyes
I hear that steroids do that to you
Could be the horse tranquilizers
Maybe roll on over to the pharmacy
The Apothecary madmen
See what they’ve got cooking on the stove for breakfast
Got to see the new productivity
Get some new pills
My pancreas doesn’t quite feel right
Course Joe Tequila’s been nipping at my liver
The Ebola’s passed
So has the bran, I think I’ve got a lump on my teste
Maybe I’ll just go back to bed
Read the swimsuit issue and watch some Jeopardy
I think there’s some corn chips by the bed
I can Masturbate
Read the Bio-dex
And then maybe I’ll have some KoolAid later on.
© AR Howerton 1993
2 thoughts on “Bachelor Days”
I once tried to get out of work because my Bio-dex read ‘ones’ straight across.
Ah, the good old days…amazing how much abuse a body can take…
True. True. And when you wake up on someones kitchen floor with half of a Snapple bottle buried in the fleshy part of your palm and your face glued to the linoleum with a mixture of congealed blood and white russian… time to stop.
That’s my experience anyways.