I painted the canvas black
using burnt cork
to show what I see inside my head
when I close my eyes
The Day is born
& ripe to jest
I can't divulge what's
in the chest
She'll wonder of this strange
digest
All the things you think are best
Are all the things I've laid to rest
The great stretch of yore
Awaken from your slumber
pouring out memories from the night before
bottles of cheap scotch, with ice
I can do without this
Alcohol daze
O Mother, your milk
like peppered whiskey
leaks out from great barrels
The time has come
To claim thee
About the Creator
Joe King
"Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything, it just ticks off the possibilities." - Jim Morrison
These poems are from my book An American Parody, which is a tribute to the writings and poetry of Jim Morrison.
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