Procrastinating Poetry

I think I read too much bukowski today

I
August is approaching
it is the hottest month of summer.
The sun beats hard on me.
I am sweating.
This too shall pass.

lg

II
I stand tall,
right here looking out
I can see everything
the cars look like specks
people
houses
trees
all before me
I can point them out
I am not tall enough
to point them out
if I am not here
standing on this hill
far above
I am small
if I am just
a part of it
I cannot make camp on this
mountain
set my head on the rocks
like pillows
noises in the night
will keep me up
best descend
go home
go to sleep
find a bigger
hill to climb
mountain to conquer
tomorrow morning

lg

III
These words
come out
slowly like dribble
then quick like
diarrhea
I cannot control
the flow
or how they
come out
it just comes out
hits me like
a bad meal in my
stomach
—why did I eat fast food?
that shit just
sits
in my stomach
until I push it out
then it’s
out
flush it
but these words
keep coming
there is no
stopping

lg

IV
I inhale
air and
pollution
smoke smog
tobacco sucked
down my tubes
joints rolled
nights sat high
watching smoke
plume
in my throat
I breathe
a deep breath
and exhale
I sip on fumes
like wine,
choke down the
last bit of air I can
because to not breathe
is to not live
so I breathe
it all

lg

V
Cardboard boxes wait in my living room
I dare not drag them to my room
just yet
soon my dad will pull up in his red truck
and I’ll haul all my junk away
back home
I don’t want to move them in here
just yet
I want to watch what
will soon be
just a
memory
untouched by business
schedule
hurry
deadlines
I want to wait
just
a little bit longer
I want to enjoy the view
see it all spread
remember my room
what each object
token
treasure
was
before I haul them into
cardboard
boxes

lg

VI
This is the last time I’ll be here.
everything is about to change
I am late, I am not ready
I do not want to go
I do not
do not
do not
Temper tantrums
the kid in me lives on
going back home
with tales
and woes
after a long night
my tail is not
tucked between
my legs

lg

VII
It’s time!
It’s here!
The moment you’ve been
waiting for is finally knocking
at your door.
Pull up your bootstraps—wait,
you don’t have those.
Just take off your slippers
at least.
Wake up
sleepyhead!
You’ve been snoozing
too late Lady Life is
at your gate.
Put on your clothes—open
the blinds!
It’s here!
It’s time!

lg

VIII
I am tearing quotes
down from my walls
whispering words to
myself
spoken
written
by poets and authors
thinkers and artists
the cloud of witness
were clung on my wall
the fab four
look like angels
poetry stays in my heart
like scriptures

lg

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