matt fromm (march 24 1982 / los angels, ca.)
When the tecate aint going down so well
when the memories of yesterdays b.s. aint going down so well
when the 12 steps, and relatives and former friends who don't return your phone calls and everything else. fuckin irs
aint goin down so well. what to do?
learn to speak Spanglish?
learn to learn?
to hell with that.
lets think instead about sensitivity training.
lets think instead about the flies who like us.
lets think about our vanity
and maybe utopia.
why wont someone just beat the shit out of me in my sleep.
i'm a mammas boy and a fraud. I have special training.
training they don't teach to th secret service. scared to death they are.
or perhaps their just selfish.
I can relate
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (These days by matt fromm )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley