With Friends

I love the cloudy days
the sunlight sharpens things
brings shit into focus
in clearly defined days
the mortgage is late again
I'm sweatin' the 5th
term life, the payment's due
ya just never know
unless you fucks gonna dig me a hole
so what happens if you're poor
Med School? don't think so
have some student cut off your penis
and wave it around like a wand
even though the magic's been long gone
Christ, every time I take a piss, I listen
for the rattle of the stones
think you can stuff me in a crack in Centralia
roast weinies, sing happy songs
just don't piss on the fire
'till I'm completely done
chips?
Bar-B-Que
Bernice (rest in peace)
said we needed a little spice in our life
so I eat these and measure
my remaining time by the price of cigarettes
besides the chips add that orange crunchy contrast
out to crane shot
to the soggy gray and green of new buds on the trees
maybe I should have been a poet
'cause I see these things
fuckoff! with that Robert Service shit
what do you like, Don Maclean?
well at least the fucker got it right
those good ole boys really sucked it dry
pan to a bunch of aged a-holes singing "American Pie"
oh he didn't say that?
maybe he should've
fuckin canuck probably drives a peugeot
New Yorker? same thing, folk singers
so I think of these things
did you ever wonder
what would have happened
if Bukowski met Robert Frost
in the woods
it's a thought

let's go up to
the broken banks of the resevoir
do remember when it went dry
we were, what, ten?

Billy tells us a story
about two crows on the lawn
and one on the mailbox
not movin, just sittin, like on some
nocturnal emmission from god
we all listen
Billy was good with words
and we walk across
a sea of cracks
on mud caked rocks that dot
our lunar land as astronauts
Billy's off
crossin the Dead Sea and he screams
God an omen
a dead fish in a Pepsi can
that's your life, he points at me
I laughed

back then

Billy was a strange ranger
became a pastor, passes out
snakes and strychnine
Verily he speaks in tongues
but it all sounds like the Bird is the Word
and Rama-Lama-Ding-Dong
I blame it all on Donkey Kong
Billy just had to get to the next level
in the great video game of God.
You know, he was up the college,
Lit major, then he went off, naked as a jay
on campus, muttering about Camus.
Billy was a jerk off

the geese have all flown off
left cigar ashes in the path
watch it, I hope it rains
cleanse the earth of duck droppings
flower the land with skunk cabbage
raise an new croup of groundhogs
to chew out all these weeds
look over to the dead tree

three crows squawkin up a storm
soundin like the Chruch choir
after a night that's gone on too long
or Maw yellin at Paw, like she always done
or Billy's sisters after the mailman died
ya done?
I'll give the crows the chips
figure you guys could use a little spice in your life
after eating shunks off the road
Oh you guys just shup up
not moving, just sitting, waiting
for my chips

O rotted limb
on gnarled tree
How thou remindst me

of me
(the pecular way I walk)
and shall tempt the fates
with mine idle talk

Break, Break
and fall on me
and end this life demurred

a chorus of friends
concurred

Crack the crows take off
it falls
I sneeze and stumble
and much to you'll's chagrin
It missed
the fucking fates win again
I'm blissed
I am
truely&surely
amen

roll credits

I figured you'll wouldn't like that endin with me livin, it being a prose poetry pastoral, all Bukowski like and sech, so I done wrote a happier one. It has angels.
I know its the Red Sea, Biily didn't he was ten; lack of quotations, its pretty much a monologue, and with friends, thay all same the same things, so it doesn't matter who said what; truely&surely are cojoined to seperate them would mean death; blissed is not blessed.
Directors Cut

I lied
I died
I'm dead, dead, dead (O how can that be, you might ask)
the limb fell on my head ( It's easy, I might reply, I just make this shit up)
You got your wishes
I hope you're satisfied
God's teaching me meter, iambic with cheap sprinkly rhyme
I hope you're satisfied
And I pluck a lute on a cumulus cloud
with the Seraphim and Cherubim et al.
and sing many a ribald song (with above said heavenly choir)
about how Billy's just a pain in my ass.