Pecoskid Poetry

THE OLD MAN

Drab
Dingy
Tobacco juice dripping on the floor.
Bread-crust
Bleeding rust
Creaking door.
The old man is silent
No less
No more.

MODERN POETRY

Incoherent
Convoluted
No sense of motion.
Regurgitate
Masturbate
No deep ocean.
Poetry guru
Get off your high horse
A line with no rhyme
Is bad prose or worse.

OLD POETRY

For some, Greek metaphor spews from the pen
Oedipus, smedipus
To hell with them.
Give me a reference to modern day
Longfellow, Emerson
Maybe Emily.
Perhaps a Python quote
Or a Bill Murray retort
I like a philosophy with a good chuckle, a snort.

EMPTY SPACES

A sunset’s fading glow, a celestial black hole
Or that distance between you and I.
That long awkward silent pause between two lovers at odds
Can not fill a chasm separating two mountains
A rubber hose, a flaring nose, or the nubbies between my toes
Measures small to the inner lining of grandma’s mothballed clothes.
A desert terrain, a winter’s silent rain,
A yearning unfulfilled.
A crowded hall with no one at all
Sits a lone martini not shaken, not stirred.
A vacuum tube, a vacant room
Or the futility of whose right and whose wrong.
A parking lot, a hangman’s knot
That which separates the shoe from the ground.
A lover’s embrace, a rose to my face,
These fill the voids I have found.

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