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Charles Monroe


Ugly Nights


Why do I write on the ugliest nights of them all?
And on happy days I write none at all?
To enjoy the happiness I seldom do encounter
On occasions, I do on occasions
But on ugly nights I just can’t avoid the sensations
Imagination’s infatuation with the dictation of devastation
I am happy if only for fractions of a second, yet, infinitely
Indefinitely.
I am lost and dumbfound
Down in uptown
Getting-off coming-on the highest comedown.
Temptress’ may Tetris their way to our headrests
In where they fit in; egos are trip-pin’
Evils are with-in’; sequels are written
Of ugly nights bidden
Forbade us our swords
In the house of the wicked politic’ of course
Too much pretty china and crystal to risk
Nature forbid we may tosseth a disk
Over bridges, bitches, digits and engines
All of the bliss that consists of these instants
Cause us to puzzle our ghetto existence
Of misfits and misprints with costly commitments
Coherent inherit this ugly Consistence.
Muggy lights on ugly nights
Bless our bloody appetites
Let us hunger not with spite
Let us bite and eat alike;
Tell them ugly things we write
That beauty is within-
Tonight.

Submitted: Saturday, July 27, 2013
Edited: Monday, July 29, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Truth.
P.X
7.27.13
5: 21 AM

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