Old dead poets

Sometimes I wish I had a chance
to sit in the audience
and watch an old dead poet
behind a desk; drinking beer, and goading said audience,
for a fight – I’m too tough for you – classic lines.

Go ahead Google it and you will find,
that it comes up second (well at least for me),
right behind the Rolling Stones
No I will never see this man; behind a desk, goading,
except that I can – it’s on YouTube.

When he calls his Bluebird, he’s really calling me
As I released mine, wanting to be the better person.
Which is why I’ll never find myself; behind a desk, drinking
beer and goading an audience – his words were precise

I’ve read too much Bukowski and somehow he’s inside
like a computer chip; imbedded, with a heatsink and a fan,
spinning at 2000 revs, trying to control his heat
he’s too tough for me, it’s not so funny now.
But there’s always a Bluebird, to control and contain him.

2012 rev 1.2


4 thoughts on “Old dead poets”

  1. This is a belter of a poem.

    Cancel my previous reply – I was agreeing with misfit’s comment but as the comments come up in reverse order, it looked wrong.

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