She is a pervasive ghost,
always the tall, the green,
or the brown, the wavy grass,
but here I go, back to Bach again,
I know how to take care of myself.
Ha! Chop those pills by half!
Genius! You dark, stupid,
At least, at my lowest, I know
when things are dark,
when death looks enchanting,
I am in the bad ass real world.
I need hospitals at every rest stop.
Lock and chains and feed me with
Deep d-minor keeps my arms at
keeps me from
destroying all that is bad in
my world, all of me.
#1 by Carl D'Agostino on July 9, 2013 - 4:54 pm
back to Bach-slick match
#2 by Carl on July 15, 2013 - 1:13 pm
Get Bach, Carl!
#3 by joanna on July 16, 2013 - 1:10 pm
It feels wrong to “like” this, though it is powerful writing, Carl. Poets write the ugly truths.
#4 by Carl on July 22, 2013 - 2:19 pm
You’re very kind to comment, and I appreciate your ‘like!’
#5 by clinock on July 19, 2013 - 12:36 am
your words have the power of Bach’s music Carl….
#6 by Carl on July 22, 2013 - 2:20 pm
Thank you for your kindness, John. I’m grateful.