Marco Driver Poems

Charge, you damn thing
Come on, or I’ll use my sling
Pretty please
I’m getting on my knees
...

Useless lips that can whistle no more
Through gritted teeth I lay on the floor
One bullet in the stomach
Didn’t even know the dude
...

He was a man with big ears
They were huge
And he sat
In his chair
...

On a rainy night
A man walks across the street
Towards misty faces
He can see
...

1975, a year full of surprise
I was born,
The start of my charted demise
...

When he took her by force
She never complained

When he married her
...

Forever negating the obvious
Obviously always agreeing
That the axiomatic
Could be
...

900 channels of death
Lies, fabrications and sex.
And yet it whispers
...

He sat in his chair
Drinking his soul through
Breathless, stale, air.
...

I woke up this morning,
My body still yawning.

Looked out the window
...