My Strength

I converse with God
but I can only hear my typer
bleeding out on to
the white concrete.
Left to die
but no one is home.
There’s only me in
a room for two.
With a view,
I imagine
my life–
What it could have been
And what it was.

I keep my enemies close
and my words closer.
Eating the keys that spill
out from my broken soul.
Filling my stomach
with the struggle I have inside.

My words are fighting words.
Always underrated,
I use my machine gun as a fist,
and the blood from my knuckles
to my finger tips,
as fuel for a fire set ablaze
by heartbreak.

Where i’ve fallen more than I can count
and my sweat and my tears
drip after each bout,
my pigment has turned black and blue.
Yet, my words keep me rising
with the strength and conviction
of a seldom few.
All I can do is pick myself up,
brush off and say
Fuck you.

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My neighbor

I watched my neighbor out on the street
Outside of my window,
Walking around in circles and
Speaking in tongues.
I assumed he was to preoccupied
To chat about the weather,
as the other guests in his head
Were talking his ear off.

I continue to punch keys,
Looking down and up again.
I see the right side of his head bleeding.

I guess we won’t be talking about the weather anytime soon.
I go and grab another beer.

Wishing You Were Here

Killing time in the picturesque
lie of the City.
Pretending to be historic,
but all I hear are the groans of
drunken bums laying sway over
their portion of this hell on stilts.

Smelling the inebriated stench
of urine and puke-stained streets.
Postcards should be sold
with the truth.
Showing beggars standing still
for 25 cents
as millionaires and
designer-fitted hipsters
leave shit from their heels upon
their concrete living room floor.

Perhaps situate the grocery cart pushers
inside half filled condominiums.
Where the residents
go on spending binges as if
high on meth.
Overdosing on million count sheets
and stain-guard carpet,
since the blood that drips
from their insides
has no chance to stay.

I love getting mail.

Poetry Reading April 25th

To everyone near and far especially those up in Fairbanks, Alaska, I will be in town next week for several days for a reading of my book, Scribblings From a Beer-Stained Napkin, on Thurs., the 25th at Gulliver’s Books alongside some wonderful local poets. If you are free to stop by it would be great to see you and catch up!

http://www.shopgulliversbooks.com/event/poetry-reading-carolyn-kremers-nicole-stellon-odonnell