song of stoned abstraction and fleeting truth no. 9 OR (melancholy and bubba kush)

06 Jan

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song of stoned abstraction and fleeting truth no. 9 OR (melancholy and bubba kush)

 

these are just road trips

potholes aplenty

i can barely see through the windshield

detroit is for death and determination

man, i’m stoned

a woman behind the drapes, hiding

a blur of guilty chestnut eyes

i fucked an aspiring pop star on a stairwell

of my friend’s place in flatbush

by where the old beef patties shop used to be

and she thanked me with a lyric and an orgasm

then i got a phone call from an ex-wife

telling me she’s pregnant with the california sun

man, i’m stoned

orange juice and milk, and all sorts of unnecessary

the west coast is where you truly feel the ending

that’s what i said or should have said

it’s the feeling that you have arrived

like that hey, how you doing jerk reaction

nowhere to go from here

a few decades and we’ll meet the coast

and then it comes

another joint

someone worth asking for advise

and, man, i’m stoned

but, fuck, forgetting is what we spend our money on

a truth, this new dimension

maybe i’ll start a consulting firm, finish my novel finally

save the world, get a british bulldog, name him chopper

then this will turn into some prison shit, this lying, all this history

crammed in we are complete, completed

jealous of the highway

and, man, i’m stoned

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Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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