Sitttin' up after midnight
Gettin' high on coffee,
Trane,
Ginz,
& Mary Jane
But she's a fugitive from the law
Saw her ass on america's most wanted
So she don't like me to speak her name
So I can't say she's in this Poem
But shit I already said she is in this Poem
She's in the fucking title
So she's in the Poem
Which proves she's been around
Not that I'm a rat or nothin'
But anyway it seems
Every knock on my door
It is someone in need
I've got nothin' left to give
But I give it anyway
& they just want more
So I just don't answer anymore
At that point I heard
Someone knockin'
Open the door
No one in need
Maybe ceiling or wall
Trane does get a little loud
When he's around
At this hour
Earlier Matt told me
Trane was the man
At least after Bird
I said I know what you're talkin' 'bout
Then Ming was the man
And he said yeah
I feel my vision
Is too clouded
In a haze of Mary Jane
But like I said
Mary Jane don't come around here
don't hang out
don't sleep over
This is a respectable apartment
But shit I know they can smell her
And the neighbors all know I'm a commie
I must be done for
Take me away like a Nuremberg rally
like a football game
Fly flags
Fire works
Cut to the troops in the crowd
Cut my head off
Nailed to a cross
On live TV
Show them plenty of blood
Demonize me
Slander my character
Flat out lie
Just remember
I'm not Jesus
I'm not your martyr
I'm not a martyr
I am not the root of your problems
And yes, your problems are still yours
And yes, your sins are still yours
Karma it can't be
Reflected
Taken away
Or taken back
It is all yours
I feel religious artifacts all around me
Me I know god pretty well
But let us not forget
I was born in the south
Raised a southern baptist
Yeah, I know god
The ugly not the beauty
Looked him in the eye
Through the business end of a shotgun
But my friend tried to run
To the left so they turned and shot at him
To the left & grazed his girlfriend's leg
And me now
Tonight had to be the night
My kid sister talked mom into
Letting her go out with me and the boys
I had to get her out of there
I'd normally go to the left
But at that moment I was thinkin'
That maybe right was right
And it was thinkin' like that
That got us out of there alive
Michael D. Grover is a Florida born poet. As a wanderer he's traveled and lived all over the country. His poetry has been published all over the literary underground. Michael currently is a resident artist at the Collingwood Art Center in Toledo where he hosts the weekly reading with John Dorsey. He runs the Covert Press. His newest chapbook is titled Confessions Of An american Outlaw. Michael is the current head poetry editor at RedFez.net.
Comments (closed)
highjackflash
2010-10-12 22:06:25
man u gotta watch mary jane around those floridian poets. they do all sorts of things to em. lol. excellent piece michael,