Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.9
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
I am a singular event 
Occupying a particular span of time. 
I am a concrete mystic 
And an incurable skeptic 
Seeking an approximation 
Of peace and domestic tranquility. 
I am a Slavic soul brother 
Living the American dream. 
I am a low rent raconteur who exhibits 
Full frontal irony. 
I know the moral of the story. 
I have committed several acts of conscience. 
I am not above suspicion. 
I am often in league with the resistance. 
I am a symbol of defiance. 
I am a rebel without applause. 
I am a working socialist. 
I am a solitary voice, 
But I can hear the drone of the collective 
And I always keep a lock on the cellar door. 
I am a theoretical technician 
And a student of scripture.
I am a practicing agnostic.
I have traced the golden thread 
To its unraveled conclusion. 
I am not a slave to fashion. 
I have walked on the wild side. 
I have spent many nights in transit. 
I am a collector of thimbles full of tears. 
I keep most of my scar tissue 
Tastefully under wrap.
I have dreams of many colors.
I can hear music, sweet, sweet music.
I dance to the beat of a gypsy drummer. 
I have had several grooving violations. 
I have been well deep underground. 
I am a man of letters specializing in silent vowels. 
I can maintain a stressed inflection 
For extended periods of time. 
I have endured odious rites of passage
And often embrace a sad refrain. 
I am routinely calibrated 
To a fine degree of tolerance. 
I have earned the nth degree; 
My master’s thesis was a pork barrel project. 
I know the lay of the land. 
I can put a thing in its place 
And then skillfully rearrange the closet. 
I am an irregular fixture in certain small venues 
Where I cultivate awkward moments of silence 
With the local inhabitants. 
I am a stranger’s face in a family portrait; 
An unrecognized shadow
Darkening a somber state of affairs. 
I have witnessed the changing of the light bulb 
At the tomb of the unknown critic.
I have heard the sound 
Of one hand clapping 
A tree falling in the forest 
With the other shoe. 
I am a phantom of the theater. 
I am waiting in the wings.
I know who’s on first. 
I have learned to play ball. 
I am a reformed safe cracker and base stealer. 
I am not good at keeping score.
I never trust bad reviews.
I once left town in a hurry 
And though I took a fork in the road, 
I let the dish run away with the spoon. 
I have spied the moon over the bayou 
With the levee yet unforsaken; 
It moved me to a consequence. 
I have volunteered.
I have the hands of a skilled black market surgeon 
Practicing in a dirty third world clinic. 
I have the patience of a famine. 
I am not what you’d expect. 
I am a fisherman’s friend. 
I use the carrot as a stick. 
I have made many first attempts 
At second chances. 
I have ten saving graces 
And a glory halleluiah,
With a statistical margin of error. 
I am an expert novice who knows from experience. 
I prefer being the off-center of attention. 
I have taken sweet, side-long glances 
At objects of my desire. 
Though I am known for being anonymous, 
I would reveal my name for a price. 
I am the hardest worker in the shop.   
I am some kind of wonderful, 
Looking for long term romantic bliss.
I am not easily impressed, 
But can be pleasantly surprised.
Let me know if you’re interested.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required