. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Logan Fowler

This is a poem I wrote a few years back about some of the most important men in my life...



Logan Fowler, wake up,
Woke Up!
Smooth black chocolate by the mile,
Resting on that thin moustache,
Those dark muscles bouncing behind his jaws,
Sweat that dots his cheeks.

Logan Fowler, wake up,
Look up,
Past the trees,
Making Malibu look like Cambodia,
On the bay.

He left Canada for a cage-match,
Rage in the cage,
Berserker Rage,
Unbreakable bones,
still...
still...
He never took a Last Name.

Logan woke up...

Why can't you?

11.2007

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