Benefits of NaPoWriMo: learning to quickly dislodge self from product. Also, developing a refined crap-o-meter. This is #10, I believe.
What I need is silence
The red truck explodes noise, parks;
floods the curb with naked torsos, long boys
from shoulder to belly, brown from a day
under the sun, hair tossed and pulled.
I hear the click and hiss of the beer can,
the “fuck” and “damn,” the meaningless
laughter, loudness, bare feet, dangling elbow
over window, the dirty blonde girl in the middle,
as I wind my way around the trail
of a suburban park at dusk when all I want
is the clamor of birds, the silence of sundown.
Instead, it is them, the fault of somebody,
ignorant of any thing that matters.
Now all I want is to take a stick of fallen pine
and beat them, teach them the only
rhythm they can learn. Silence.
hey! is anybody else revealing their crappy poems?