hank had the race track
to fall back on
even if he had shit luck
he had the redhead
fried chicken
debussy on the stereo
wine in a glass
a cigarette clenched
between often angry lips
he quit the post office
to follow his dream
of being a poet
seems you could do
that kind of thing
back then
always a helping hand
for a starving artist
with a trade to ply
all i have
is the chorus of words
in my skull
singing every where i go
as i work
on postage machines
across the dallas fort worth
metroplex
a long distance love
smiling in my head
no gut for booze
no food for my gut
no hope
of being a poet
as much as i
look up to hank
i dont want to be
the next hank
i want to be
the first one of my own
but i don’t have
any luck either
where he fell ass backwards
into it
i just drown
maybe
i need to bet on the ponies
quit my job
live on the streets
for a bit
but
unlike that gnarled old fool
i have responsibilities
even if
that doesn’t slide a knife
into the heart
of dream
one day
i will either succeed
or quit
leave enough chicken scratch
that my kids can see
the poet
that masquerades
as a normal guy
so fuck you hank
i love you
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
Ummm… I think you can call yourself a poet now. Considering you pen more verse than probably anyone else on wordpress. And stuff that makes sense… at least on a visceral level, if not literal. Some people write this cryptic shit that sounds like it couldn’t make any sense if it tried, but one thing it tries at is trying too hard.
Dude. You are a poet. Some poets don’t even have to write… the poetry is all in how they see and experience the world. Being recognized and published makes you popular… but not a poet. That is all in you already… before it touches the page. 👍
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thanks TJ. i was reading Bukowski and feeling down.
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Ugh… that fucking guy. Read some Niyyarah Waheed, some Mahmoud Darwish, some Sappho, some Angelou, some Rupi Kaur, (etcetcetc) and step away from the depressing white dude shit for a bit. There are other perspectives on the human condition that can be quite life-altering to bear witness to. Unless it is E.E. Cummings’ erotic poetry or Walt Whitman. Or Paul Celan. Or William Blake. I like those white dudes best. Lol But I can’t stand Bukowski. Yes, he was a genius with words, but… there are others worthy of the same level of worship. I am feeling opinionated this morning!!! ☕🤘 Ahem… sorry….
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Don’t apologise for being opinionated. If I am honest, I don’t really care for poetry much at all. It’s why I do it my way. Ms. Angelou is a rare exception.
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I am the opposite lol. I don’t write it much unless it wants to come out but I do enjoy reading other people’s experiences and views in poetic form, especially if it takes me away from my white privilege. The poets I mentioned are the ones who have made a deep impression. Bukowski has too (ish) but I just don’t dig his vibe. Being a rather strong woman, I might be justified in that though…. 🙄 Keep writing. Be a poet. Be an OG!👍
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