Get Your Premium Membership


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 believe the carrot is the 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.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.