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1/14/2 Poe + Pro: Poem To J. Strange

Poem To J. Strange
Coulter Jacobs

Ah, Strange

What will happen

when tha day

runs outta nights?

When machinery

shivers its robot

giggles into tha spines

of tha last man?

Or when tha Endangered

Species list includes

Mankind & trees

of Everykind?

Where will you be


In yer steel cubicle?

No, hah hah—

What’s gonna happen

when yer eyeballs

roll back & stare

at yer Holy brain


None a this shit

is gonna matter,

will it?

Tha new monopoly


or tha gold quarters

—Washington finally

cries under a bridge,

or in tha gutter

as tha tears from

tha streets

splash on his forehead,


Phone calls ain’t a

quarter anymore,

neither are papers,

& a beerforabuck

is a novelty item

When yer in yer mad 20’s

alla this shit is like

a raging landslide

of thick confusion:

So whadderyou doin’

wit yer life son?

Have you thought about yer future?

You getting’ married soon?

Do you have a pension fund?

—an’ she’s gone, Strange

an’ I can only pray she’s comin’ back—

I sleep alone

lookin’ at tha shadows

of headlights

racin’ across tha ceiling,

tha ghetto-bird light

shines through

my window

& I hear tha blades

cutting tha maroon

night sky

Is there a place fer me?

w/in tha concrete veins

of society?

Maybe I don’t have a future

I don’t even have a buck,

or a chick

an’ I haven’t shaved fer awhile

I don’t even really like chicks,

there’s only one thing

I like about ‘em

—tha same thing every

guy likes—

Tha hairycheckbook,

other than that

I’d rather not deal

If it wasn’t fer

that Golden Pouch

I probably would never

even converse wit’ ‘em

So what’re you chasing after?

Is there such thing as


Since everything is so much


(an’ all LIFE is indeed suffering?)

Where do I fit in?

Or should I fit out?

I think it’s jus’ that I

don’t love money enough,

I like it

but I don’t love it,

Ya know what I mean?

I think tha ground

& tha flowers

r mad at me

mosta tha time

alla tha flowers

have long faces

& tha laughter

of most people

makes me sad,

smiles make me frown

an’ I haven’t cried

fer along time

(since she left—ya know…..)

My insides are wild

Crazy, in constant motion,

tingling, burning cold

My stomach is an

ulcer maker

I’m scared

to talk

to love

to eat

to cry

to burn

to be sober

to live

to lie

to pray

to write

to laugh

to see

to feel

to touch

I’m scared a everything—

I been talkin’

t’ walls

an’ sunsets

an’ churches

to birds,


empty bottles

an’ they been

answerin’ me—

They say YES—

while everybody else

screams NO!!!!

I saw a kid tha other day

with a horribly burned face

& neck

hands, arms

his flesh looked like

it was dripping from his bones,

He bought a pack of Marlboros

an said,

"Do jew lof jor life?

jew should lof jor life."

Then I gave a bum

tha time of day,

even turned him on to

a new radio station

(they’ll play Dylan, man)

(He had a beatup walkman)

An he says, "Do you

know God loves you?"

I said,

"Yes, he loves you, too."

An’ he smiled

got on his bike

an’ rode away grinning—

Do jew lof jor life, Strange?

I don’t know if I have a life

But I do love You—


Lover of Mankind

Snapping Dragon,

Chainsaw whirlwinds

in yer head

Marching Onward,

Roaring, gnashing,

scraping away

layers of filth—

I saw my reflectiom

inna dirty window,

I saw a picture

of my face

in tha black

a my own eye,

(I was real close

t’ tha mirror)

I saw skulls fall

outta closets

—I drink by myself sometimes—

people r scared sometimes

when I say

I wanna die,

Death is a gift

Life is a sin

(cause noone asked t’ be here, right?)

fulla imitation beauty

false eyelashes




—counterfeit sincerity,

hell, my eyes r fake—

Poetry is funny,

no one gives a shit

an’ Bukowski says

there’s lots a poets

but not much poetry

—Poetry is breathable air

that humans pollute

with greed & green,

Mayhem lovers

with sharp tongues

that taste like

9-volt batterys

an’ breath like

a pile of steaming dogshit—

"surely we must know

what people are?"

"I dunno, do we?"

(compliments a Dylan)

Fuckin’ aye!!

Set yerself up

in tha middle a tha storm,

Drink it all

then swallow tha bottle,

smash it in tha street

or break it on someone’s head,

Smoke it all

‘til yer fingers burn

an’ you feel every

last empty atom

in yer little toe,

an’ tha tips a yer ears

Rage, inject tha world

inta yer veins

Snort a line a

fluffy white clouds,


sanity will be yer fulltime job

inna world running arms open

towards madness—

Tha shadows r my only friends


A warm place t’ hide

an’ point tha bottom

of a forty bottle

at tha

clouds slipping over tha moon

like curtains in tha wind—

But you r my friend









Sounds kinda like ‘fiend’ hah?

R you my Fiend STRANGE?

Salamander Stopsigns

Broomstick Mentality

Dream Bottles

Flipping, Fierce, Funny, Fury

R you gonna cave, Strange?

Droopy Doldrums—(Death Breath)—

Draining Deprivation

Dripping Clips,

Sips a tha sky

Fires in my Eyes

Can I ever payoff

my Loneliness debt?

Is there a cure fer Loneliness?

When I feel So Alone

when in tha company a others?


within my ‘selves?

I drink t’ remember!

Lucid Fuzzyhead

Concise slobber

Perfect stumbling

Mumbling, grumbling

Fumbling mess a

lushness in distress—

You get it, right STRANGE?

Yer heads not fulla

Question Marks???

Plunk! tink, tink

shattered wink

Drink tha sink

think of pink,

tha sun behind

a million branches

Tha sea is hungry

fer some Sun—


Please shine yer light

on my heart

Keep me safe

& my family

& friends

Please pray fer

anyone who considers themselves

my enemy

Keep me free

from anxiety’s chill,


save me

from myself—

Protect Josh Strange

from tha thorns of battle

illuminate his soul,

tear tha goodness

from his guts