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Poem

"UNTROUBLED ON THE COUCH"


the aftermath of morality
6 of the newest poetry to
come from the typer
all me
all you
all of it
a Chicano
listening to the sounds of 
the birds and the cracking 
of the leaves
the black robe approaches
mouth as sore as a virgin's
the years that have changed 
my face get younger and
younger 
every woman asks the same of 
me but all fail to give
arguments 
lies
the bending of truth to 
satisfy her fear of being 
caught
I've often said I won't make 
it to thirty-five and if I 
die now on this couch, the 
crows would be torn to 
pieces.
I'm turning 34 in a few 
months
I guess I have a year left
numerous nights passed 
where I wondered if I had 
lost myself but as the wind 
continues to drop dust in my 
beer, they've all lost me
here's another piece of 
poetry 

another life set in stone
this'll be typed and then put 
away 
my audience hasn't been born 
yet and for now I'm stored 
away
you've been out for a while
collecting dust from the 
filth
I've got my own dust and
someday someone will blow it
off 
just like you did to me.


By: Chicano Eddie
9252017

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