haphazard photographs flash smiles in black
and white, show old men smoking life away
I read news printed in dark ink
pasted across nothing paper, filled space
of all the world’s emptiness, tied up with
strings, placed on doorsteps, framed for
a later year’s wall, no gray, that’s all
I’ve ever cared about, either all in
or nothing at all, smoke and smoke
and die, or don’t and live awhile longer
don’t just smoke two, don’t just print
a lie and dress it up with color, go
with all the grace of a jackhammer
pound the world home with a pen
yes sir
no sir
i will never be a you
sir
A prophetic final stanza Ben - especially with what precedes it! Fine b&w imagery spiced with tendrils of tobacco smoke. Rgds, Ivan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
bending reason, Ben. good work breaking up the lines, here; fine style. course we all know you have style - not a disclosed fact. Very telling poem. best care, sjg