Friday Night Poetry Slam

Week 4: GROWTH

A theme's just a suggestion.

_ _ _

Weather-warped’s the white wood of the willow with our initials
Withered with daylight, nicotine and chisels
The spot where the teens smoke
Pot, but the gestalt
More than they get stoned
Listening to hardrock
Home is a hard place to be in these cracked cities
Move to the backcounty, never gon’ ask pity
From nobody, raise a little cane and marijuana
Sit on my front porch in the rain and watch it thunder
My candle like Genevieve, under my impression
I’m traitor to my memory and servant to expression
That’s bullshit, spread it out, grow a little produce
dead men dis-pel doubts; I read Joshu
Yeah, y’all clownshoes walk your patter like whatever
But I head straight, head-case, pushing past ‘never’
Dead weight on my shoulder, Prim carries her father
Brimstone in my holster, vinegar in my water

Submitted January 25, 2020 at 03:31AM by PaladinBen https://ift.tt/2GkBntp