Kentucky
has a way about it
that feels
both timeless
and impermanent
without ever
choosing a side
Categories
Tag: Bourbon
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no one
at this crowded dinner party
is you
sadly
h,
hey louisville,
long time no hear from, don juan try hump fat
i’m about to get waynesburg on your stubborn ass
and i want you to know for years
i forgave you for blowing your head off,
hell,
i applauded your ballsy choice
you were nothing if not consistent
you were proof the most intelligent and keen amongst us
are prone to depression, suicide, and addiction,
because we understand how fucked up the world can be
and simply can’t bear the soul sucking siege and insult of it
no one should be made to suffer,
but you should be alive now
we need your voice now
more than ever,
gonzo journalist,
who thought the best was behind you
and it had only just begun
n’ don’t you tell me all the best kentuckians die young and grandly
you’re dead as a damned door nail
you can’t talk back
and aye, that’s the rub, old friend
i’m so mad at you for going away
if you weren’t already dead
i’d shoot you again myself
love you, fucker
a
my smile fades
from the smell of
unexpected onions
fourth shot of whiskey poised
in my left hand
you rise in my throat
bile and reflux
but you are nothing
if not consistent
molested by the memory
of you
endlessly comparing me
to that damned bottle
of bourbon
wild
free
stately noble bird
amber eyed Kentucky royalty
worthy of addiction
who will kick your ass
if you don’t mean it
not for beginners
or the faint of heart
yet somehow
reasonable
and to hell with you still
i say
you and your Custer decisions
when you make your last call
last stand
each night
succumbing to the same
faulty strategy
sulk in your warm bath and remember
you lost to the indians
all on your own
(slams her shot in a way only bartenders and the triumphant understand)
last night
i dreamed of willie nelson
we were on the paint peeled veranda
of a dilapidated southern plantation
talking the morning away
as country people are given to do
drinking fresh squeezed
orange juice
over the bones of kentucky colonels
a wild turkey bottle
crying fowl
beneath our rocking chairs
i stood
pushing through the screen door
in my white sun dress
telling him i had designs on frying him
some eggs and sausage
scratch biscuits n’ pepper gravy
grease being the best hangover cure
he responded with an
a-men and a tip of his hat
as i took a rolling pin
over flour sprinkled dough
the notes began to float into the kitchen
i heard him picking the strings of his guitar
singing
i’m crazy
crazy for thinkin’
that my love
could hold you
Categories
glamour gal
i have the legs
of an angry ballerina
battleship hips
and stevedore arms
i laugh too loudly
but often cover my mouth
to hold the ecstasy inside me
i punched your uncle who was in the navy
at your christmas party
i spike my orange juice
with bourbon and honey
i’ve been known
to leave the house
wearing two different pumps
perhaps only one eye
of makeup done
vertigo
makes it so
i sometimes get dizzy when i’m driving
or wearing heels
and fall down
let us hope it’s a day
i have no panties on
i’m a poet
so i sit around
in the orange gloam
of after dinner evening
with other writers
coffee mugs in hand
discussing why it is
we haven’t slept
in years
and what it means when your piss smells
like a fresh roasted tanzanian nigerian blend
i can’t be anywhere on time
there exists a curve in my very existence
but i’m from the south
i do everything slowly
and with great deliberation
i masturbated in the tub once
and nearly drowned
such the glamour gal
this may be my kentucky talking
but i’d like to drink your
poser grandiose shtick
under the fucking table
then beat the shit out of you
with a wild turkey bottle
knock your ass out cold
leave you on a floor
bar napkin poem on your chest
in a honkey tonk outside memphis
elvis singing suspicious minds
as i walk out the door
you’ll love me forever
once you come to
kentucky exists as
a painful dichotomy
for the native
it is lush green
mountainous
untamed
awe inspiring in its beauty
bourbon distilled
crystal blue lakes
giving way to ancient streams
bluegrass growing atop
a bloody history
rich in the red clay
rolling cattle and horse farms
all the homegrown vegetables you can eat
but nestled into the picturesque hills
resides a poverty
like nowhere else in the nation
i come from a place so poor
the quality of life so brutally entrenched
few escape
the jobless rate
addiction
obesity
illiteracy
tobacco tumors
shorter life expectancy
and a disability check
dirty politicians
dirty preachers
racism
absolute segregation
in lincoln county
all the black folks live on water street
because that’s where they’re welcome
you see
it’s still 1955 where i’m from
but a little more backwards
because now there’s crystal meth
to pair with
celebrated ignorance
taught as religion
people convinced they’ll burn in hell
if they don’t donate to jesus and republicans
i go back from time to time
to see my mother
being down home isn’t quite death
but you can feel it crawling up your sleeve
when my time comes
give me dignity
burn my body
cast my ashes back to the sea
i don’t want my bones
trapped there
to endure eternity
went away for four days
i changed
the world remains the same
all it took
was two tanks of gas
maker’s mark
a little smoke on
the mountain
poetry
an act of god
and a man who
will never be my husband
i’m not sorry for using words
you don’t understand at times
i’m not sorry for writing things
no one wants to face
because it forces you
to consider your own bullshit
i’m not sorry for using improper punctuation
it’s car crash poetry
unapologetic
i’m not sorry for my big tits
my muscular legs and boy ass
my age
or my southern drawl
i’m not sorry for my flask of bourbon
or
how my use of the word “fuck” bothers you
i’m not sorry for being angry at the human race
for our collective suck
if you hate me so much
why can’t you stop reading, johnny?