Ain't no Cure for Suicide

I have a new book coming out on Interior Noise Press. Some of these will be submitted for it, others will not. Laying on a pile of poems and  just posting them as I feel it. So, to read the poems that won't be on here...you have to buy the book! I'll let you know when its coming out, shouldn't be till later this year which gives me plenty of stuff to post stuff, and stash stuff, to make an incredible book.

Welcome to my poetry blog, thanks for stopping by!

Ain't No Cure For Suicide

Wondering

What’s inside a demons pocket

Or if Satan’s liver

Is bad,

The masses are waiting

For me to pen

The great spider web sonnet

But I blew my stamp money

On cyanide

And there

Ain’t no cure for suicide.

These

Pricks with needles

Send me head over heels,

Tripping over sunflowers

While

The Father and Holy Ghost

Have gone fishin’…

The son, left behind,

To wrap up the trilogy,

A traveling salesman

Nailed from the very beginning

Hustling soul protection

And hot crucifixes,

Busted

Tossing halos out

To the pure and the mean

Like some Mardi Gras

For the angelic scene

And every time I think of my calling

I cry

Because I sold out resurrection

And their aint no cure for suicide