fields
of whisky
black
under
a sunless day
under
a cloudy sky…
heart is a
cardboard box;
forgotten rhythm(s)
& impotent stroke(s)
numb these thoughts
of thoughtlessness;
versus are shiftless
stanzas wander
prose(s) indisposed ~
drunk is the poet
with a leadless pen in hand
& a tattered notebook
with pages of dirty white
crinkle[ing]
against the wind…
scream;
in quoted brackets
I am read:
[Please Insert Poem Here]
As the Editor and Founder of BoySlut who’s had her share [aplenty] of reading poems on a daily basis and from some of the most renowned underground poets from around the world, I must admit I was not prepared for what Mike Meraz had in store for She Poems.
Read in as little as 15 minutes, not only was each and every poem cleverly versed and multifaceted depicted (with much respect to the women who inspired such genu~ism) these candid and satirical poetic trinkets are sure to not disappoint and to encourage the idea of what “underground” poetry really and truly is.
*reviewers note: If you haven’t read She Poems or anything by Mike Meraz. . .Shame on you! But here is a list of his chapbooks (in no chronological order): 43, Black~Listed Thoughts, Writhing & Alive, Watching it Burn, Black~Listed Poems; and the link where you can view his online Journal, Black~Listed Magazine:
http://www.black-listedmagazine.blogspot.com/
greatness
this morning
came in the form
of wall street dogs
barking on CNN, and billionaire
roosters crowing in their
free range hacienda coops ~
i scratched my head beneath chipped nails,
peeling away dead skin from my scalp
like a snake shedding away pounds and pounds
of acidic rodent death
and cannibalism
and everything weighing heavy on my mind
and started fresh
with a half-pot of coffee,
a full kiss on your mouth
and this poem about nothing great
she left
ridin’
that midnight train
to Georgia
and she left
like a man ~
with only the clothes
on her back
I could’ve never loved her
as a woman, though
especially when she left [behind]
a twelve pack
in the fridge
and
the toilet seat up
jackie.
the first time I saw you
was in a 2nd hand store in ’91
for 65 cents
in a World Full of Married Men
it was then
how I longed to be
one of your fictitious heroines ~
someone you could
glamorize
if “once upon”
but in your world
there was hardly ever any “happily ever after’s”
but after reading
chapter after chapter
you managed to capture
my own dark fantasies,
and sometimes it wasn’t easy
closing those books
on what “could’ve been”
Yes, the World Is Full of Sinners
an occasional Bitch and even a Rock Star
but none of them
will ever measure
to the fabulous superstar you once were
and still are
R.I.P Miss Jackie
and keep on writing,
’cause even Heaven needs
a bit of
raunchy drama.
(original photo Devlin De La Chapa)
