I started writing this poem about something superficial knowing that deeper and better things usually pour out once you open the poetic dam! When I don't have anything to write about but feel like writing I find poetry opens it up.

Hope you enjoy!



Long and coarse, brown and itchy
A stand of trees, so to speak
On the point, close to the edge
Difficult to find your way
Through the shit and through the itch
It's raw, it's dry, an open sore
Scratch, monkey! It feels so good

Shave you off, be gone from me
Clean cut wounds are better still
Drag you out, behind my truck
Bleeding, you scream my name
Open mind with closed up wounds
Open window see the view
Pick it, monkey! Chains let loose

Deep thoughts, concerning nothing
Grasp for depth, no depth be found
The itch is back, dance, monkey!
Walking wounded, by myself
Clean cuts are nice, softer still
Stay clear, this monkey throws shit
The wounds are mine, leave me be