Once rich, always an emotional pauper

So since there is a dark week for the podcast because of the holidays, I thought i might regale you with more Bowling Alley Poems.

The first is a short one titled “Self Help.”  It’s fairly self explanatory so I wont wax poetic, but it comes from the dark angry brooding mind of a early-mid twenties single man, angry and scared for what lay before him.

Self Help

Sitting in the cafe

with coffee and toast

laying the cheese on thick

I see the smile

and the sly coquettish gleam

that only encapsulates courting

I ponder the point of three little words

I wonder about aspects of  hygiene

It’s just one more dame

to waste more time

I need to get a new hobby.

Late night regret

a tasteless hubris

that only works in fiction

Drinks at the bar

and bottles of vain candor

which boorishness sweeps away

If I could just have some time

and a little restraint

I might obtain that trust.

I’m going to add one more, and remember that it comes from an angsty place.  All of these poems did.  So be ready to be angry at me, or be angry with me.

Once Rich, Always An Emotional Pauper

I’ve come to this place

and it’s all been said before

We’re conjoined

married for a time

so I can start a war

I just dont care

what you think is pertinent

or what we are fighting for

I know my mind

and my star is fading

so come here, my sick and poor

I’ll hand you a rifle

and set you free;

kick you out the door

Your bruised, broken

aphroditic desire for death

leaves me wanting more

But it’s ok, never fear

I’ll have a little letter sent

to your mother

To settle the score.

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