Chris's Poetry

A long time ago, I had a really good friend named Chris Converse, who inspired me.  He's the reason I learned to semi-properly play a guitar, even though I still don't know from keys.  I got back in touch with him a while back, and he sent me some poetry.  I think it's good, and I'm putting it here.  You can think it's good too, if you want, but the only way to know for sure is to read it all...  and by then, if you don't like it, it'll be too late.  The only way to tear it free of your subconscious then would be with a power drill--which, I might add, more critics should employ, when they seek to lay their disdain as heavily as possible.

got coffee, exchanged strange glances,
one black, one with cream,
talked to crazy jay, strange man, hence his name,
he bummed 3 cigs, apologized profusely,
promised to get me back,
some pretty girl i have known by sight only, but not know personally, licked her lips at me, 3 times, i did not know how to respond
i rolled my eyes,
caught the method 12 , paid double fare,
all the way down hillsborough street the lady from day treatment was on the bus,
she used to think i was her nephew,
she would say
'i cant do THAT with my nephew,
i just looked at her, didn't know how to respond,
on the bus she would glance up at me, slow to recognition,
then unsure looks away, as if thinking,
so i get to thinking, while i sit here drinking,a 32 of sam adams,about the shelter, and the walk to the church every morning, the one at the hospital,
this city is sunny and cold, at the same time.

2
i don;t talk too softly, i harmonize with the crowd.
we crisped together in vegetable isles.
she manages a smile, for 20 k a year,
gets stoned nightly, stares at moonlit clouds,
sees bunnies in the atmosphere.
takes her coffee with panic attacks and creamer,
lights a cig puts it out, has serious doubts about,,
me ever coming to see her.

at 3 am i drove to the beach, and sat on the huge rocks,
the waves sizzled and crashed,
every 3 minutes the lighthouse would flash,
today the salt water will wash me clean,
so i wont regret anything.
i was gonna call and see where you landed,
instead i laid on the sand feeling stranded,
skin burning so i wont look so sick,
i guess tommarow ill sit around and get older,
i threw her number to the surf, so i wouldnt call her.
3
So your not running away i threw away your book

offerred up to an angry god

my favorite cd too

i got a burn victim face for your

'i didnt light a match,

you just poured some gasoline

left traces of vasiline in

every girl in ralieghs panty's

i was contemplating my full plate-o sin

got it down to one last shakey friend

ship to the city dump were

god will see my offerings to him

and maybe forgive me

omniciant god knows every thing

all my good intentions,

paved with bones, road to hell

momories pass like kidney stones

but we chose, old friend, to walk on bones

broke best when left alone,

wrapped in a blanket, ignorring the phone

the dred sound, birds chattering, dawn shone through window,

 like stars through the darkest nights

a crow

laying on the side of the road

i had nothing else to do but call

and you were there

now where am i

wind caught wing

cd scratch, repeat

looks like its waving,

bye bye,

i was a child helpeless and monsteruos

i am broken and will not heal,

yet i go on and ever on...

4

all that matters, in matters of relation, definition creates restriction
souls that rub together, clouds, create electric friction, remember you, quick to yell, no hesitation, balled up like a fist, in fetal position

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