I'm like John Lennon without the Money and the Talent
by Ryan Nardi
Blame the man who plays
six days in bed
off as a paid vacation.
A bottle of Kentucky bourbon over my head.
Blame my stubborn ways...
too stubborn to not force my way
between evil and the worried day.
A box with a pipe in her over my head.
I find it hard to tell me
science can be gay--
need to add more book-in-looks to my play.
Old boxes of psychic leads at the foot of my bed.
Posted on 11/28/2009
Copyright © 2023 Ryan Nardi
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by V. Blake on 11/29/09 at 02:09 AM|
The title says it all, man. And the rest sounds just as wonderfully meandering. This is a poem for the pathless. Like me. :)
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/29/09 at 05:15 PM|
I really like that third stanza.