Free verse · Poetry

waiting for the man & the man who didn’t survive ’88

For what she’s done there’s no excuse
The greatest living poet hasn’t died
Dyed his hair blond, don’t ask me why
His words so bitter and melodies so sweet

Women wearing scarves made of velvet
These would never ask for the price
They know the talk is cheap and love’s not a word
The dreamer’s behind the shadow man

His face was pale, left book unread
In the underground another waits for his chance
For dark skin you don’t see the eyes in pain
I’d almost think that it was me

And the poet has no mercy
For the woman who stole his life
Never smoke, never blow, the mind remaining still
Painted bananas forever sold to us

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