June 16, 2009

No I’m Not Happy To Be Alive

by Randall Rogers

neither was Kurt Cobain
and Hemingway at the end and Hunter
and Sylvia
oh thank Lord there’s no guns in the house and they don’t have gas ovens here cuz they don’t
bake things here in Thailand and I’d never icky cut my wrists so no with the knives and the doc won’t give me enough pills or I can’t horde 'em long enough to get enough of 'em to, as they say, "get the job done"

hanging’s out too, what kind of a jerk would do that?
just imagine me dangling at the end of a noose!

No I’ll do my suiciding the old fashioned way
with cigarettes
sex with prostitutes
too much drinking on occasion
non stop pot smoking
and yaa baa (this speed) taking and living the
writer’s bohemian no job life
like other writer guys
that didn’t really take a firm hand in outright killing themselves but
rather let the tar or nicotine
or the booze
the drugs
do the job enjoyably for them.
I throw my liver and lungs and brain
in with that crowd.

I’m not with the blow your head off scene.


Anonymous said...

yes i thought it would be like that, and like a swiss watchmaker, like a late german train, unpredictably but predicatably, given the intuition this the 'why me?' you of me tempted teased and pleased,drank white ring stink mouth with me talking, the give and take of good drunk smoking mental sex high of bullshitting doing, well, good shit. that me so. HEY poet! That's all you are, a some think well turned clever dull wit of don't leave home emily dicks her son bore of a rock that cracked same as the mouth tone smirking laughing at you cracker boy drunk gunfigher sonority of the comment of series of acebicides and kung fu like display of eyeball popping out and swallowing whole one gulp threatening actions that keep him calm but jumping around like a chimpanzee stationary catatonic rocking himself to sleep. Some three days from now.or longer, like this poet and her work. A fatwa I hereby issue!! Allah AK47abar!! God is a peanut, in a can of delicious pecans, almonds, filberts, nigg - ah Brazil nuts, and my favorite, some kind of roasted them in heart clogging oil and salt, salty old salt. Shaken, not from the sea. that's what I have to say, abot this poet, besides once again screaming fatwa!!!

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