Trust the Messenger, Trust the Message
“TRUST THE MESSENGER, TRUST
THE MESSAGE”
I sit here with a pounding
inside my head.
black shorts, white t-shirt
waiting to deliver the words
to the doorstep of this paper.
at 32 this backyard sits just
outside the window behind me.
with the poetry slowly
building again, I smoke
cigarette after cigarette and
wait until the facts make
love to imagination.
deliver the lifetime of
affect and never apologize.
for the greater part of my
life I have brought everyone
I have come across to
question me:
the whores,
the women,
the mouths that spit ****,
and every ***** that has used
love to get what they wanted
out of me.
my brain works the same and
for that I am grateful.
change would’ve abandoned the
words I now deliver.
street after street,
drink after drink,
tear after tear,
the nights and days of
question remain.
everything I have learned
from my questioning and
disobeying, breaking free of
daily conformity has given me
the worth no one ever saw me
to have.
I sit here with a pounding
inside my head.
black shorts, white t-shirt,
delivering the gratitude.
sign for this package and let
it sit on your shelf until
the dust kisses it with lust.
it’ll change your life,
sorry-
no C.O.D’s.
By: Chicano Eddie
10-6-2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
