S. Wesley Mcgranor Poems

Get drunk
Get high
regret is nigh.
...

Sihk, Nation of Islam, Five Percenters, and Real Mohammedan behold
a god that they can touch, see, and pray to.

God
...

Liar, liar, pants on fire,
grab the telephone wire
and rig that phone call
then you say:
...

'Out on the street
for a living'.
Where sympathy
is cliche:
...

Closed to the beating
Punched, kicked, and choked
To an orgasm
Not her own
...

She sat
-down
and
sat
...

In bondage
like Adam and Eve
or making decisions to/for/against
the best of their knowledge
...

It was like a remote yesterday when you took me kite flying. I can remember vividly the ice cream cone afterwards and then mom having Autumn dinner ready and it was a homemade beef vegetable pie...
After grace dad said that he was leaving soon and that he had to go to heaven -go because he had cancer.
Did god give you that'? I said to dad. Mom reservedly quipped no it was satan. Later at bed time I prayed to god, and he said that it was dad himself.
...

Ever since he died, things just are not the same. But i'm really into Bob Dylan now. This organic/commie coffees great; hey nice tie-dye. I don't mind shwag if its the only stuff around. Acid, opiates and coke with some P.B.R. -at the happening place where gals re-enact Ani De Franco meets girls-gone-wild. Later when we are all sober we will find some more escapism on T.V. --where we don't have to come to terms with our neglect and abandonment.

Dance the dance
of bare feet
...

White America pretends
in their house;
it is safer
than pretending on the streets.
...