| "NEW YORK NEW YORK" new york new york the seedy bar where i conspire to commit the next offense hookers dicks barflys drunks assholes bums gamblers rapists tweekers cons runaways lesbians bikers hustlers and the poet we are all the same and unashamed right now i wouldn't mind being the last person in church to receive the collection plate i'd consider my pockets blessed it's you and you and you who are the devils i on the other hand am a well decorated veteran of social disorder i need a soapy bucket of water and a hard wired brush i need to scrub like i've never scrubbed before then i will be clean and could pretend to feel guilty until then, let me introduce you to a little number called "satisfaction" it's dryly enchanting at very least now how satisfactory the satisfaction - is what makes the difference this is key! hey, i've got to make a living here and at least i don't come home looking like a slob {not in visual appearance anyways} ...........................................but under it all i am gratifying myself while pondering the nature of a cunt. ©Sean C. Bowen 2007 |
| "STRIP O GRAM" sometimes it seems, or at this moment anyways that words appear to me much like the full imagery of a "strip-O-gram" i am left to stand there awkward and with faking smile inside though, i am turned on so i write write like i fuck fuck words with my pen it's so dirty my pleasure was such a secret now yours to measure and by the way... i hate rhyming ©Sean C. Bowen 2007 |
| "3 CHORD PUNK ROCK" try again remember when words were elusive and seen through the eyes of those who don't mind my words are - ink from a heart wilted by the sun now and touched by an anvil (a letter from my poems, about me) "our author cannot write and so forever we suffer" and so it ends now so it seems i'm feeling like classic 3 chord punk rock broken promises are fuel here is a thought - you are defeating/i am breaking my world intruded when i trusted you to teach me even sweet surrender is rejected, and there is silence again weakness is burdon i will die fighting lonliness is a blessing and besides...it's what i owe the gentless touch is emotional violence yet i still also carress this love...i mean...the cost of caring..i mean... the thing is.... what i mean to say is..... i'm trying to say that...... touch is welcomed pain let's fill our cups and drink to touching shall we? here is a note to myself - "Sean, you are the queen of denial" i can't pretend to refuse to be a dominant male (ballad of a liar) writing provides comfort for my afflictions peas and carrots as forrest said. hapiness was outlined in chalk, i swear i seen it laying there! this art of frustration is commanded not by me kiss me or kill me but don't you dare waste my fucking time] it's the same difference. the way in which it stands is a losing battle what do you say we talk about this over dinner? we can drive to the city and see the flaming lips after don't forget the film for the camera wait i have a better idea- let's stay home where it's familure we can watch "a clockwork orange" for the upteenth time score a bag and fall asleep by 9 ©Sean C. Bowen 2007 |