Aerial Finish Line

Aerial Finish Line



She had no life's ambitions
American or other
I could say it was always her Dream to fly

Or that she always
Would fly
In her dreams

And, thematically aware, swing her by the tail
Send her flailing off a cliff
Into the sky

Grandly
A culminating moment
Movie fodder

Destiny fulfillment
Foreshadowed all along

But she's a cat.

A wake, a party
A swift kick to the head
A shotgun

Something epic
Dramatic
Would be way, way too much

I'll wait until Monday
And hit the vet's place
Show up and beg for mercy

For Greta and for me
End this
I haven't got the cat gut, the emotion left to spare

Can't
Care for her
Correctly

I'll quietly sit
And cry as she
Quietly dies

Some sodium-laced chemical
Filling her being,
Dragging her in to the afterlife

Or if the vet cries foul
There's a quality of life left
Morality and the law won't allow it

Then I'll drive away
Find a gorge
And I'll send

My Greta

Flying.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Potential Punk

Potential Punk



He's six.

Round-faced and brown
Like a native
Of the rainforest, he

Comes stomping through my front yard
Two feet from my house
With his white wifebeater on

Just to be
Confident and
Strong

He spits on my lawn
When I come out my front door
And just keeps going

And I'm afraid of him

As he crosses the invisible line
Traverses into
The yard next door

I tell him
In case he's
There with his ears on

That he's ending up aggressive
Confrontational
Got an angry attitude

Oughtta calm the fuck down
Doesn't need to challenge
Everyone

Not me

All up in my territory
He'll end up being hurtful
He's IS hurtful

-

I believe he thinks
In his
Six-year-old way

"I'm not hurting anyone, just
Maintaining my stride, my
Little power

Against life's obstacles, blazing
My trail through to
Surety and safety

Choosing my defensive moves"

But you'll end up suffering
Fighting for safety
Every day

In a gang, I'm thinking, in prison
No choice of any kind
No safety, no surety

Your attitude
Will give everybody else
The same attitude

It doesn't matter
Who threw the very first punch
In your life

You're throwing the first one now

With your downcast eyes
And your frown and your little fists
All up in everybody's space

You're throwing punches
Right
Now

Involuntarily, maybe, but threatening
When you could be strolling slowly
In the street

Relax
Dude
Or you'll get stuck

That way

A strong guy
Is
Calm. He

Doesn't have
To prove

Anything.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Appropriate (For Charlie)

Appropriate
(For Charlie)



You were blamed.
They were wrong.
That was then.

It's time
To begin
Sometimes

To feel
Guilt
Again.

Midsummer Shower

Midsummer Shower



Don't need this plush and bed-buggy couch anymore
It was nice, like
Three hundred bucks
On the curb now

Now it's raining

Now I'm still standing still in the yard
In my jersey gym shorts, is all
Being soaked - sopping - staring
At the quietest and calmest revelation ever

Yeah, move now
To a new place
With nothing
Allow it to wash clean away

Parasitic
Thinking and
Folks and
Ways in which to spend your money

Time

And do not worry, Boy
That the deep thunder is just as judgmental
As your next-door Baptist
Neighbor

You know

Better

That you

Are

Okay.





by Coke Brown Jr. -
as posted on Coke's Croaks -
www.cokescroaks.com

Housing

Housing



This computer's default mode
Is inward

What's thinking
Why

Useful? Y N
Connection not made

Data
Intel ligence inside

Dig
Self-contained

Shell

The Eyes in Our Heads

The Eyes in Our Heads



The mirrored sunglasses
Stop everything short

His
Mine

Mine having been
On the road
Alone with me
In motels for a month running

His just half a foot over
The Formica table
In the gas station "country store"
His face forward

Blank
Resting

At a level to quietly communicate
With a dull red ketchup squeezer

An extra inch of
Brown handlebar could
Drag crumbs
Across his biceps

Laid out flat and forward
In front of him
Like one long, thick arm
Hands clasped at the end

As if in thanks

As if.

Our
Eyes, uncovered
Would have
Met

As I head
To the head
But I won't be
Giving any.

Mine
His

Are
Reflective.

Are

Shaded.

Thought Karaoke Lizard

Thought Karaoke Lizard



But I play one
Chamaeleonidae
On TV

You have to understand
Every
Person has to

If you don't get it
I'm doing it wrong, quickly must change it up
Warble more desperately in more octaves

Or drop to gone, unjustifiable
Inexplicable
Scattered off-white paper litter

If you're familiar with celadon
Let me put it out in those terms
I'm sooo familiar with it, too

If that's too easy - you think you know it completely
Or you're a hardcore chlorophobic
I'll tell it in another way - magenta maybe

I stared at the swatches for days without stopping
Each and every single shade
Can produce them with my head

Robert
Fucking
De Niro

Rich
Fucking
Little

From the realistic podium
In the smoky, black-scratched, acryclic, sound-proof booth
Up here, above you

I'll assume
You still
See me

Let me
SHOW
You

Just
Watch
Me

Misunderstand
Mime
Force an education of it on you

In any
Color
That you want

To recall
To request
To

Recognize

-

All vindication
ALL
Depends on

Your

Empathetic

Eyes.





by Coke Brown Jr. -
as posted on Coke's Croaks -
www.cokescroaks.com

Sisters

Sisters



The dental hygienist
Picks and scrapes
Lifts and separates
The soft, pliable matter
From the hard
And digs
But it's not personal
It's cold
Like the chemical air in your mask

Her sister is the psychiatrist
The same to your brain

At the restauant table
Their heads turn partially to each another
Their eyes don't need to meet
Their smiles are flat and rigid
Their necks are
Full of ligaments
Taut

Everything
Is as

It should be





by Coke Brown Jr. -
as posted on Coke's Croaks -
www.cokescroaks.com