Who Needs a Poet?

nobody needs a poet
we are archaic
we are obsolete
we are malfunctioning cogs in the machinery
we are disturbing the status quo
we're pissing off our girlfriends' fathers
we're underperforming at our lackluster nine-to-fives
we aim low and we land lower
but we dream in a stellar capacity
and every now and then…
we find a reality in our hearts
that the world's been waiting angrily
to listen in on


http://www.joshuafinkpoet.com/

Elephants hate the circus
like Kurt Cobain hated fame
Elephants hate the circus
& the tigers aren't thrilled with it either

I'm outside the tent tonight
smoking a Camel & swigging Dimetapp
The show's about to start
& I'm signaled by the corpulent ring master
to kick on the spot lights
That hard buzzing snap that blasts the beams upon us

I'm out back with the clowns in the rain
holding a tarp over them
Bourbon & grease paint
I'm offered a bit of each

The bearded lady calls me to the trailers
for a dice game with the Daredevil & the geek
But I haven't been paid for last week
Sometimes I don't get paid for weeks on end
A felon can't complain

That's why the livestock pens are unlocked
The tigers are missing
& the elephants are just starting to rush the tent
I got six padlocks in my pocket
I roll the dice against the wet plywood
scoop the pot
Elephants hate the circus

-Joshua Fink


http://www.joshuafinkpoet.com/

Get Going Gone

Come away with me
We'll pull up our stakes & rattle down the coastline
stop at all the greasy-spoon joints
pool our money for smokes and fun
We'll just keep going until we can't drive
anymore
I'll get some job washing dishes & making breakfast food
You can sit in the motel bed
paint your toenails
& sip rum until I get back
We'll break out the old tape deck
& play something older than us
dance in the broken light until we fall over drunk
Laughing & mad
& we'll make love in those borrowed sheets
& everything will be expendable
Paper cups and tiny soaps
& maybe while we're gone
the law will forget us
Our friends will forgive us
& some day we'll make our way home

-Joshua Fink


http://www.joshuafinkpoet.com/

Any Day

Hear the song the finches sing
Hear the melodious church bells ring

Walk the concrete/Feel the cracks
Feel the warmth your spirit lacks

Hear the hustle of the street
Watch a first time couple meet

Grab a bench & watch the trains
Count the nights beneath the rain

Send a letter to yourself
Polish off your liquor shelf

Burn a message in your chest
Put on your best suit & vest

Put a record on a loop
Place your letter on the stoop

Choose a blade, some pills, or worse
Kiss goodbye your maddening curse

Say a prayer or have a smoke
Accept the promises you broke

Breath a sigh/Embrace the sorrow
Set the clock for more tomorrow

Out There in the Night

A cold still night found me
Sitting by my fireplace
Sipping bourbon
In my rugged little cabin
My glass filthy-
from the soot on my fingers
As I sat in silence
Listening to the woods outside
The owl out there in a tree
The gossiping crickets
And suddenly
The crunch and snapping
of the dead leaves and twigs
on the ground
I tabled my drink and found a window
Nothing yet in sight
Just hard/heavy footsteps
Bringing someone large in my direction
I brought my hound out and put him on a chain
I squinted into the dark
Waiting
For brush to shake
For branches to give way
As I aimed my little rifle
Just a .22
I stood and waited
Shaking and shivering
in the cold
Knowing that this gun
Will not stop a thing that size-
those steps are carrying
with less than ten rounds
The slam/crunch/snap
Those soul-shaking footsteps
Out there
in the dark
The forest gone silent then
The crickets hushed
My chest and shoulders jolt
With the sound of each horrible strident stomp-
coming from behind the trees

http://www.joshuafinkpoet.com/

New

The paper golden hats lay down
on the moist and stained old floor
the noise makers and buzzer whistles
have been discarded 'neath the tables
the street girls are at the bar
waiting
waiting for the good boys to give up
and find a value to the object
the band has been gone for hours
the cocktail waitresses
are staggering and tired
grinding out some rent money
the frat boys have lost the bets all night
so they keep plugging at the tables
in desperation
the girls, in their thigh high little dresses,
are wobbling through the casino
their makeup has melded with sweat
turning the canvas of their faces
into a melted wax portrait type of feel
the dealers are yawning
the pit bosses sigh
as the house counts the take
and rings in the new day
with a parade of security personnel
marching through the room
like a lethargic uniformed army
walking heavy upon a conquered land

The Sea gull

I'm swinging around this world
I'm fucking John Glenn
The worst thing you can do to me is let me touch the ground
Toss me a pretzel
with a pressed and hidden Alka Seltzer
and watch my belly blow

Shattered

I only came here to find a friendly face
I'm turned up high and walleyed
I'm rattling like a chimp in a cage
The pub is warm and dark
and everyone is smiling and leaned back
but no one's smiling at me
No one looks familiar
The speakers bleed a tune of joy
An old Irish waltz
I'm loud and alone
yawning out a chorus
Slam another drink against the bar
Whisper to myself
and answer out loud

Lemme have a tall Guinness
in a dusty glass with a whiskey knocker
I'm here to find a friendly face
I can't even find my own
I'm not looking for a number
I'm not looking for a kiss

Get the waitress over here
and tell her I can smell that brisket
and it's got me hovering in
like a cartoon bum
but my legs are just as silly
and my head can't find the roof
but some solid greasy protein
might bring me back tomorrow

19 Lives with 19 Wives

My first wife took my car away
My next wife took my house
My third wife took my kids away
A heartless rueful spouse
My fourth wife got my business suits
My fifth wife drank my wine
My sixth wife crashed my motor home
SHE'S still doing time
The seventh burned my mom's house down
The eighth would whine and fight
Nine and ten met heaven when
eleven bought the dynamite
Twelve,thirteen,and fourteen
Rabies,Flu,and Morphine
Fifteen,sixteen,seventeen?
Chose my lawyer, Mr. Levinstein
The eighteenth was the jealous type
For all my wit and charms
It's hard to hold another's hand
Once she'd cut off my arms
But nineteen is my dream come true
It's more than just her looks
The way she grins and gazes into me
while polishing my hooks...

-Joshua Fink


http://www.joshuafinkpoet.com/

Hossana

the lord be my shepherd
that I shall not want
but take from me my mentor
and kill my callous front

my youth taught me to beg to you
my faith taught me to fear
my heart told me to follow you
and all this would be clear

my agony roots in your doing
my melting is your word
my apathy falls upon this
the candle dripping on the sword

I tried to find my soul in this
I searched the stars and trees
to find the prayers I gave to you
while you would prey on me

-Joshua Fink

Your menacing lecture
is nothing to a man with no fear
your crosses and legends
are a stones-throw from fairy tale
I can boil my own
and pour it on myself
for the damage I've done
And all that I'll do
you're reaching in for earthworms
you're casting for an eel
old coffee cups and cigarette butts
the fuel of fire for your meal
stand upon your parishioners
your heel to close their throat
snap a match against your bloodied spurs
ignite the bottom of your coat

you're all vertical stripes
in that suit
witha tall hat and ivory cane
to confuse the small men you beguile

I owe you nothing
but if you whisper your hopes
into my eyes while I sleep
I'll do my best to dream them

They found him in his dark apartment
Laid out on the floor
The dog was licking out the rocks
glass in his hand
Lapping up the melted ice
His old record player was still spinning
But only playing scratch
His eyes lay open
His right hand on his chest
with a smoke burned to the filter

I guess that's how it goes
I guess that's how it goes

She was an all night waitress
She often had to leave her son
unattended in the night
It was a gloomy and foggy early morning
When he found her in the tub
Her hair tousled
Blonde and pink with blood
Each leg hung over the sides
Red speckles in the whites of her eyes
A hand print bruise on her throat

I guess that's how it goes
I guess

You can call her "Janey"
She'd just graduated middle school
And made sure she caught
her crush's baseball game
The stands were full
The summer night
alive in the field's over head high beams and the distant firefly flickers
The echoing crack from the bat
always lead to spectator frenzy
They found her in the woods
Behind the bleachers
Eleven teeth missing
from the left side of her face
Her lips, swollen and busted
Her fingers, filthy from the mud
Turtles nipping at her bare toes
come morning

I guess that's how it goes

For a Moment

Into the rain I stomp
Hard and passionate
Skipping three steps off the stoop as I depart
My boots clomp and slosh in the puddles
The rain runs off my fists with blood
Second hand leather coat
Gleams against the street lights
I’m off of hoping
I’m running INTO the problem
Not running from it
Anymore
I see the lines they’ve all been reading
I see the stage they all practice on
The dichotomy
Of my several selves
I hear the pop trick nuisance of modern radio
The clash of burning cold wind
Against the open finger wounds
From a lost temper and a window too close
I don’t wannabe a rocker
I don’t wannabe a martyr
A bullshit local role model for the frustrated youth
I don’t want to be an outdated poet
But I am
Am I a romantic myth?
Am I a loose cannon wrought with social dysentery?
Do I plug the dream into myself?
Or is it hardwired into my American patience?
All I can be sure of is that I’m done
Done with biting into the bread
Only to abruptly grind into the sand inside
Done reaching
And crying
And screaming
Punching phone booths
And vitriol
And bar urinals
And diner tables
And urban sarcastic apathy

Spit my knuckle-scabs from your teeth
And know I loved you
While I smoked on the fire escape tonight
And remembered you
As you have always been there
When I needed you for a moment

- Joshua Fink

Shopping List

Tommy Chong's brownie mix
Store brand home x-ray kit
Crab meat cookies
Voyeur Vince's self mammogram instructional booklet
Whipped cream flavored aerosol
Yo-Yo Ma's signature Yo-gurt
Grandpa Whitey's Original graham crackers
(best with aged white chocolate)
Edible suspenders
mustard flavored licorice
Nick Nolte's (80 proof) Vodka sauce
Oreo's(with new Vaseline filling)
Elmo Park 'drinkable' spring water
Dirty Dixie's two pack pregnancy test(s)
Rice paper air planes
1 Gallon bleach(with free syringe)
Michael J. Fox brand martini shaker
Waffle flavored pancake mix
Pancake flavored personal lubricant
Sour cream Popsicles
Captain Morgan brand juice boxes
Oral B semen flush
Hershey's Diabetic vinegar bars
Pac-Man fever reducer

1st Love

I was on the bridge on a Winter’s frozen night
Standing on the four inch rail
My chest pressed forth
Arms wide and welcoming
Eyes closed with my nose high
With a passionate inhale
Of the cool
Fresh
and reaching sky
The abrasive wailing wind on my back
The ghost stampede
Thrusting me from my footing

There was silence here
A free fall dream
The stars spiraling
The clouds and lights
Like comforting blankets
And bedside candles
The involuntary sigh of peace and hope
Just before the crash

I’m gasping now
Every effort for air
Comes with a painful gulp
Of brackish water
My muscles have buckled
My legs won’t move
The cold cuts into my ribs
And I feel an extra ton to me
My eyes recess into my face
My jaw is forcibly clenched
I keep reaching frantically
Craning my neck
For something to hold
For a landmass to aim for
But my sight is hindered
With the sloshing water
Of my panicked struggling frenzy

As I start to really sink
When my efforts prove my strength a farce
As the light above abandons me
I collect myself and know
That this is what I came here for

-Joshua Fink

At the Cabaret on Christmas Eve

The main hall was smokey
and sadly quiet
Tony sat at the piano on the stage
his head hung low
as though he might pass out
and end the tune with his forehead

Elaine behind the bar
was biting off her press-on nails
from boredom
while the bus boy rattled at her
deploying the unwarranted energy
from the speed he sniffed out back
before his shift

Eddie Main was at his table
wearing a porkpie hat
that looked like he'd sat on it
at some point in the night
he asked the waitress to leave his empty glasses
at the table
so he could measure his degradation

Chauncey leaned on the stage
Like a gambler pleading to a horse
vicing his dark brown fingers together
as he tried to whistle along
with the keys

There was Mona the psychic
in the back by the bathrooms
shuffling her tarot cards
waiting for a weak wary rube
Luis sat with his 'sister'
his wife, not in attendance
Arlen sat center stage
up in front
three lit cigarettes in his ashtray
scribbling on a napkin
with a broken fountain pen
Willy the Pistol tried to keep the beat
with his fist on the table
the only man who didn't seem alone this night

the young disheveled girl
sat so close to him
her right hand wrapped under his arm
wrested on his dead wrist
she asked why
why did they call him the Pistol
he bit his cigar hard and said
'I always have Six shots
and I'll put anyone on the floor'

The Cabaret on Christmas Eve
was a brutal rueful tell
on a booming Friday night
all these people seemed so tuned in
they all looked like
Moguls and sharks and wise street deities

but with the crowd gone
and the lights fixed and dim
You could see it all
you could see the tears in the blazers
you could see the creases on their eyes
you could spot all the cheap jewelry

The Cabaret on Christmas Eve
put a spotlight on loneliness
every ballad played
was a story for every scarred set of knuckles
it gave a microphone to the damned
while they whispered to themselves
while they ran down the timeline
of every dark mistake
While Willy the Pistol
looked intently at this ragged girl
and said
'I don't remember the last time
I looked back to check
to see if what I'm running from
is still chasing me.'

The Monster I Am

Warily and doubtfully
I proceed into the hall
skeptically but hesitantly
looking for a monster
a demon I taught myself to fear
a relic of my childhood
something he'd warn of
as he fried left-overs
he might smugly laugh
from over his shoulder
"it'll run you down...
one day."
the kitchen stunk
like skunk
and incense
and Sriracha
I would never go into the attic
past dusk
where my train set lay
with my record player
and my bookshelf
A getaway by day
the den of some hell beast
by night

Fried pig fat
vegetables
floating in grease
my spoon is rust ridden
my napkin's been used
my father coughed the day's lung
and forgot
he'd slurp rare steak tips
splash the bread into the diluted blood
and mash it into his beard
like a ravenous Celtic warrior
he'd giggle in his beer
and sickly say
"your monster is already
here"

I'm not coming home
and you cannot come
with me
we've had these days
to teach us
how to lose
we had those nights
sleeping together
when sometimes
you were my bed
we've had those nights
to learn how
to wake up
alone
I wish I could be waiting
at the door today
to dance for you
when you come
to chase you
with a smile
to feel you
as you felt me
I'm not coming home
I'm not coming
home
and you cannot
come with me

Title: Poem from Jagger(the dog)