Nothing to sneeze at. I didn't think it was my best poem but hell, it's decent and also nothing to sneeze at. Most of anything I do is nothing to sneeze at.Back in the mid 90's I got paid $50 for a slam out on Long Island at some place called butterflies & oops - can't recall the second part of the name. Another time I got paid $100 to be on a cable t.v. show called words and images (Damn is this the name?) hosted by Willard Gellis.
Anyway for your delight, my first paid poem~ also available in mp3
IS IT LOVE OR EXCUSES
You avoid me because
you know I know
your secrets
the thoughts that make you ill
I know how you feel
Sometimes you utter nothing
at all & the tv gets louder
to drown out the sound
of my words, my voice
a discarded memory
of what’s left unsaid
We don’t discuss
what I think is wrong
as I record the trail you forge
with the sound of your voice
hollow in my veins
while I follow you room
to room echoing your thoughts
fill the room’s silence
Thunder claps in the distance
You say the echo is loud, too clear
you turn up the volume, cover your ears
while I bisect & categorize
the entrails of your thoughts
My unsaid words follow
the curve of your hips
As you move to and fro worrying
I’ll disparage what you say
I listen, record the flow
of your words, you want me
to share my observations
I do; for you they only personify
my excellent clinical skills
your firm lips cover my unspoken words
a poor excuse, a moment frozen in time
I like the way I feel about me
when I see myself in your eyes
Your eyes hold back tears;
you stare at me & hide your soul;
why should you share to recreate the pain
I don’t exist for myself or you
Your mind’s eye a reflection in glass
None of it real
