Crumpled up two pages
a rarity in my hands
most times I do not come up for air
as long as it takes a song
to start and end
as long as I make this pen bend
to my right and wrong.
I can detox my body
add ginger to my green tea
bring back my mind
with Rumi, silence and obscure poets I find.
I can revive my soul
writing until my notebooks are full
and the cardboard back cover will do
any blank space filled through and through
page after page of nonsense, raging like a bull
(you can come in and out of my room
I won’t see you, I’m in full bloom)
creating an inner world
with hotel rooms on fire
sex acts, food, conversation, attire
vivid characters’ desire
as she spreads her legs
feeds her need
with his vibrant seed.
I know the joke’s on me
of how could she write
Erotica from the Greek eros, I recount
and my real name
my real picture
forget it, it’s a bloody game
the nature of literature
in vino veritas
deux ex machina
professors’ voices reminding me
of tragedies, endings, motivations
to stop the critics, the academia, the vultures
you know who you are
and you might think you’re a star
but no one here gets out alive
and if you haven’t heard Jim say
it then get back to the past
listen without judging
take that fucking dive.
Tell him a tale
wipe a tear
off I sail
do not leave any tracks
hard to tell the lies from the facts.
All I know is that I’m in full bloom.
This entry was posted in First novel and tagged academia, adages, fiction, Greek, images, Jim Morrison, latin, lies, literature, metaphor, poem, poet, poetry, poets, professors, schooling, the internet, the Romantics, the stars, truth, university, writing.