Monday, December 23, 2013

You Don't Tell Me.....

Folded like the crease in gangland Chinos
Your mind dips lower than an election year politicians virtues
Creating a halo around the campsite shitter
Convincing everyone that it smells like money and sex

Pop the truth
An ugly blister
French kissing black lips, the reapers' sister
Pull the lie
Expose the muscle
Running the most elaborate hustle

You choose what you write.....

Mending the fence when the course gets too heavy
Drinking your coffee from old poets cups, cowboy style
And spitting out volumes that fall on sensitive ears
Riding shotgun in the onyx beast, you weaping Chivas

Cap the punk
Wear his hat sideways
Etching out grooves on life's shadowed highways
Pinch the ducket
Grating the raw nerve
Throwing the masses a down and out curve

You don't tell me, I tell you.....


  1. "Your mind dips lower than an election year politicians virtues" loved that line....

  2. You choose what you write...

    That is so true - and the poet's cup may often be filled with a bitter brew.

  3. i like the assertive end....nicely done.

  4. Whoa, that's telling us, that is."You don't tell me, I tell you..." Loud and clear, yessir.
    Wishing you and yours the very best of Christmas and the New Year, Corey. Keep up the good work.
    Hugs, K

  5. I'm not sure this is self-talk ("you choose what you write") or a satire aimed against the bard we all aspire toward, but the blade cuts clean and deep. Maybe that's still rock n roll enough to swagger all the way through the night. You tell me.

  6. my 14 year old son gave me whiskey for Christmas. don't know if I should be proud or worried. either way, grin on his cheeks and glint in his eye, and then - well, as Brendan notes - you tell me ~

  7. what is cowboy-style coffee? imbued with whiskey? straight up black? cooked over a campfire in a tin pot?
    love this, of course. Merry Christmas, Corey! xo