Litkicks Message Board Archive


Posted to Poetry

No thank you ma’am.
The city moves too fast for the kid
with the lead shoes.
With the low down dirty blues
And two pockets full
Of nothing to loose
I find my way out of this ‘ville.

I leave behind just enough room
for the next starving figure
shaped like a poet.
Friends say, “It’s all in your head.”
I say, “What do they know?”
They’re just the walking dead,
Propelled by the love of bread.

I never would have thought that
the coffee house would fall
to the great steel ball
and the hammering jack.

And from the crash-slash- bash
billowing dust and ash
a synthetic bongo beat
electrically induced
on the new age street.

Not the Phoenix I hoped for…
But the one I expected.

B.T. Dog