June 14, 2005

the rites

By Tony Brown

i am
as always
awake and
the furniture is
as always
laughing
at my fat ass
once again
riding the wooden chair

all the rain that isn’t falling
couldn’t drown me to sleep

i lick myself
in fifteen dirty places
like any common dog
taking the time
to make a thorough job of it
going over and over and over me
till i’m
raw

counting the night down by the manic numbers

one the tossing of covers
two the reaching for books
three the stubborn yearning for love
four the gripping substitute for same
five the teary triumph of orgasm over satisfaction
six the pensive grandeur of waiting for dawn
seven the counting of pills
eight is the hour you should leave for work
nine is the hour you actually do

ten is nirvana or
ten is a joke

mania is all about nine
camping night after night upon
the last step
before completion

and i do it
until i have
surrendered
all hope of ever having
a garden variety
dream

About Tony Brown

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A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown
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