Wednesday, September 2, 2009

poem of the day 09.02.09


i am inspired
by the same things as the rest
a brilliant painting
a great movie or book
sunset over cities
conversations and wine
overlooking a crowded street

i am inspired
when i think about my writing gods
kerouac, bukowski, hemingway,
hamsun, fante, fitzgerald, miller,
and even old allen ginsberg
they do and have done
something for me
that many others couldn’t
and still cannot

but sometimes
i’m inspired by strange things
cruel things, deviant things
like looking down a woman’s blouse
or catching a glimpse of panty
on the rush hour train
other’s misfortune
dead politicians
famine and warfare
and bombings in foreign lands
things like prison terms for the wrongly accused
or a bad child being beaten in public

sometimes these things
command me
and i can’t help but be inspired

the old woman whose
groceries drop on the sidewalk
or the old man lonely on a bench
too afraid to die
a teenage girl crying over
some worthless punk
or the blank stares of people
dying slowly
in movie theaters
watching bad hollywood films

i suppose i could keep going
someone busted for tax evasion
couples who are getting divorced
or someone being made a cuckold of

i don’t know why these things move me so
perhaps i’m just the product
of a lonely childhood
no friends
with too much time on my hands
with too many days staring out the window
hating the world

but there’s simply so much
there for me to become inspired by
the world is such a fucked up joy
some days i’m scared to leave it

so, lady, the next time
you spit out your lunch
through your teeth
while farting in the library
looking for a book on tantric yoga
don’t blush
or become embarrassed
because someone
probably me
might be writing an epic in his head
about you
right there and then.

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