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Poem
To J. Strange
Coulter Jacobs
Ah, Strange
What will happen
when tha day
runs outta nights?
When machinery
shivers its robot
giggles into tha spines
of tha last man?
Or when tha Endangered
Species list includes
Mankind & trees
of Everykind?
Where will you be
Strange?
In yer steel cubicle?
No, hah hah—
What’s gonna happen
when yer eyeballs
roll back & stare
at yer Holy brain
forever?
None a this shit
is gonna matter,
will it?
Tha new monopoly
dollarbills,
or tha gold quarters
—Washington finally
cries under a bridge,
or in tha gutter
as tha tears from
tha streets
splash on his forehead,
—torture—
Phone calls ain’t a
quarter anymore,
neither are papers,
& a beerforabuck
is a novelty item
When yer in yer mad 20’s
alla this shit is like
a raging landslide
of thick confusion:
So whadderyou doin’
wit yer life son?
Have you thought about yer future?
You getting’ married soon?
Do you have a pension fund?
—an’ she’s gone, Strange
an’ I can only pray she’s comin’ back—
I sleep alone
lookin’ at tha shadows
of headlights
racin’ across tha ceiling,
tha ghetto-bird light
shines through
my window
& I hear tha blades
cutting tha maroon
night sky
Is there a place fer me?
w/in tha concrete veins
of society?
Maybe I don’t have a future
I don’t even have a buck,
or a chick
an’ I haven’t shaved fer awhile
I don’t even really like chicks,
there’s only one thing
I like about ‘em
—tha same thing every
guy likes—
Tha hairycheckbook,
other than that
I’d rather not deal
If it wasn’t fer
that Golden Pouch
I probably would never
even converse wit’ ‘em
So what’re you chasing after?
Is there such thing as
Life?
Since everything is so much
blankspace?
(an’ all LIFE is indeed suffering?)
Where do I fit in?
Or should I fit out?
I think it’s jus’ that I
don’t love money enough,
I like it
but I don’t love it,
Ya know what I mean?
I think tha ground
& tha flowers
r mad at me
mosta tha time
alla tha flowers
have long faces
& tha laughter
of most people
makes me sad,
smiles make me frown
an’ I haven’t cried
fer along time
(since she left—ya know…..)
My insides are wild
Crazy, in constant motion,
tingling, burning cold
My stomach is an
ulcer maker
I’m scared
to talk
to love
to eat
to cry
to burn
to be sober
to live
to lie
to pray
to write
to laugh
to see
to feel
to touch
I’m scared a everything—
I been talkin’
t’ walls
an’ sunsets
an’ churches
to birds,
gutters
empty bottles
an’ they been
answerin’ me—
They say YES—
while everybody else
screams NO!!!!
I saw a kid tha other day
with a horribly burned face
& neck
hands, arms
his flesh looked like
it was dripping from his bones,
He bought a pack of Marlboros
an said,
"Do jew lof jor life?
jew should lof jor life."
Then I gave a bum
tha time of day,
even turned him on to
a new radio station
(they’ll play Dylan, man)
(He had a beatup walkman)
An he says, "Do you
know God loves you?"
I said,
"Yes, he loves you, too."
An’ he smiled
got on his bike
an’ rode away grinning—
Do jew lof jor life, Strange?
I don’t know if I have a life
But I do love You—
Cyborg-brother
Lover of Mankind
Snapping Dragon,
Chainsaw whirlwinds
in yer head
Marching Onward,
Roaring, gnashing,
scraping away
layers of filth—
I saw my reflectiom
inna dirty window,
I saw a picture
of my face
in tha black
a my own eye,
(I was real close
t’ tha mirror)
I saw skulls fall
outta closets
—I drink by myself sometimes—
people r scared sometimes
when I say
I wanna die,
Death is a gift
Life is a sin
(cause noone asked t’ be here, right?)
fulla imitation beauty
false eyelashes
tits
smiles
loves
—counterfeit sincerity,
hell, my eyes r fake—
Poetry is funny,
no one gives a shit
an’ Bukowski says
there’s lots a poets
but not much poetry
—Poetry is breathable air
that humans pollute
with greed & green,
Mayhem lovers
with sharp tongues
that taste like
9-volt batterys
an’ breath like
a pile of steaming dogshit—
"surely we must know
what people are?"
"I dunno, do we?"
(compliments a Dylan)
Fuckin’ aye!!
Set yerself up
in tha middle a tha storm,
Drink it all
then swallow tha bottle,
smash it in tha street
or break it on someone’s head,
Smoke it all
‘til yer fingers burn
an’ you feel every
last empty atom
in yer little toe,
an’ tha tips a yer ears
Rage, inject tha world
inta yer veins
Snort a line a
fluffy white clouds,
‘Cause
sanity will be yer fulltime job
inna world running arms open
towards madness—
Tha shadows r my only friends
sometimes,
A warm place t’ hide
an’ point tha bottom
of a forty bottle
at tha
clouds slipping over tha moon
like curtains in tha wind—
But you r my friend
STRANGE
F
R
I
E
N
D
F-R-I-E-N-D
Sounds kinda like ‘fiend’ hah?
R you my Fiend STRANGE?
Salamander Stopsigns
Broomstick Mentality
Dream Bottles
Flipping, Fierce, Funny, Fury
R you gonna cave, Strange?
Droopy Doldrums—(Death Breath)—
Draining Deprivation
Dripping Clips,
Sips a tha sky
Fires in my Eyes
Can I ever payoff
my Loneliness debt?
Is there a cure fer Loneliness?
When I feel So Alone
when in tha company a others?
and,
within my ‘selves?
I drink t’ remember!
Lucid Fuzzyhead
Concise slobber
Perfect stumbling
Mumbling, grumbling
Fumbling mess a
lushness in distress—
You get it, right STRANGE?
Yer heads not fulla
Question Marks???
Plunk! tink, tink
shattered wink
Drink tha sink
think of pink,
tha sun behind
a million branches
Tha sea is hungry
fer some Sun—
Lord,
Please shine yer light
on my heart
Keep me safe
& my family
& friends
Please pray fer
anyone who considers themselves
my enemy
Keep me free
from anxiety’s chill,
Lord,
save me
from myself—
Protect Josh Strange
from tha thorns of battle
illuminate his soul,
tear tha goodness
from his guts
PLEASE LORD HAVE MERCY
ON THA HUMAN RACE.
9-17-00
7p.m.
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