the lousy poet speaks

... sometimes I think the radio talks to me,
and it isn't some hallucination

... I mean the content sometimes has connections
to my life, which are synchronous in the
Jungian sense of the word

... I don't know if anyone will ever read this,
but if what Snowden says is true, this is a cheap
way to start writing a book

... even if no one reads it, it will probably get
archived in some government database somewhere,
where possibly in the future, someone will
come across it, and it may change their lives

... get them to find Vishnu, if not Krishna, in their minds

... I don't care if my poetry is lousy, at least
I got to put my thoughts down for the record

... finally as a PS, for when they make the movie :-)
... the first 20 or so of my poems were written
to a very beautiful waitress, who worked at an Italian
restaurant alongside me on St. John's in the
US Virgin Islands

... everyday before work, I would get a greeting
card of somesort, and with the warm Caribbean breeze
blowing, I would write a poem on it, and give it to
her at work

... I blew it, I snubbed a pass she eventually
made at me

... I knew it would never work out, because
of my wanderlust, but I just want the record to
show, I wanted to make a connection with her,
but I was too inadequate ... broke, no place
of my own ... it would have ended bad

... plus, she was so beautiful she always
had me worried that other men were after her

... what could you expect from a Catholic schoolboy?

... but, I guess that's why I'm a shitty poet,
no zing, no emotion, almost nothing left
of a lust for life in me

... now, the pains of old age somehow kill the lust
for life, and you desire to spill the beans of truth

... you start begging for triage from Vishnu

© 2016 by zentara
If it is the last word I write, let it be Vishnu