Long Duvets Poems

Velvet Gospel

Fuchsia-flecked, rhinestone-rimmed cowboy hat
Embroidered boots to match
Silver spurs—slick, sharp, shimmering
Brand new, but battered beneath
Travelled far, walking the jagged beat
Where have I been
Where am I now
Have you seen my mind
Floating in sugary bliss
From the Journey’s Inn—
A haven for friends, old and new
Veterans of domestic arms races
Comparing wounds from the endless chase
For elusive, blood-drenched euclace
Oh, the cheap whiskey
Burns brighter
Than dead desire
Where carrion birds gather
At the corpse of joy
Bottoms up
Chin chin
Let the velvet gospel begin
Mr. Depression enters
A silver slash of sorrow
Sick with his own lore
“Fancy meeting you,” he croons—cold
“Looks like you need a bitter brew to hold”
Warm whiskey winds down the throat’s hallowed hall
Rattling the rusted lock on memory’s mausoleum wall
Have you seen me before
You might recall—last week, perhaps
Grumpy, frumpy, meek collapse
My garden of grace paved over with grit
Wilted and wasted in drought’s cruel spit
Crawling through viper pits and dens of bad deeds
I felt relief
Quenching parched desire
With earned fire in a glass
Oh, the cheap whiskey
Burns brighter
Than dead desire
Where carrion birds gather
At the corpse of joy
Bottoms up
Chin chin
Let the velvet gospel begin
Two stools to sit upon
Lost boy and riot girl
Pink Lady, Velvet Gentleman
Again and again
Bottoms up
Chin chin
They laugh at the tribute band
Silly show on a slanted stage
Crooked teeth bared
Yellowed with age
Chipped by rage
Filed by fate
Two AM—wobbling down the jagged street
Holding up the night’s loose end
Keeping everyone awake
Lonely bones vibrating
With resonating lust
Urban lamps flicker
Like my wine-coloured iris
And what are dreams
When fiction splits at the seams
Weaving tapestry from fragments
Truth in forward motion
Stitching reality together
Like Casper drifting down wishing wells
Pleading, plundered, pitiful
Unseen by those untouched by sorrow
But tonight
With my fuchsia hat
And bombastic laugh
Overshadowing grief
Once poured on tap
I grab it by the gnarled neck
Shake loose threads of regret
Into useful shapes
In bedrooms with velvet duvets
Oh, the cheap whiskey
Burns brighter
Than dead desire
We stitch our sorrow
Into velvet fire
Bottoms up
Chin chin
Let the velvet gospel begin