A New Poem For The Freaks
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A New Poem For The Freaks

(In The Key Of Jack Micheline's A Poem For The Freaks)

 Michael Grover
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 Michael Grover
A New Poem For The Freaks
by Michael Grover  FollowFollow
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Michael Grover is a native Floridian. He currently lives in Florida. Michael is widely published in it literary underground. He is the current...read more head poetry editor at www.redfez.net, Michael has published several chapbooks including his newest Some People Go Crazy on Citizens For Decent Literature Press. In 2014 Michael published his first novel Lockewood/The Wolves Of Lockewood.
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A New Poem For The Freaks
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To live as I have done is surely absurd

Starving artist life, cheap apartments, & a commune

To walk down the street

Talking to ones self

And screaming at the sky obscenities

That the arts is a rotten business indeed

That mediocrity and the rage of reaction rules

My Poems and books piled on the floor

To be one with himself

A saint

A prince

To persevere

Through storms and evictions

Through dusk and dawns

To kick death in the ass

To be passed over like a bad penny

An invisible man

A ghost

A freak

A hot piece

An outlaw

Raise your cup my and drink my friend

Drink for those who walk alone in the night

To the crippled and the blind

To the lost and the damned

To the lone wolf running through life

Drink to wonder

Drink to yourself

Drink to pussy and dreams

Drink to madness & all the stars

Just drink damnit

4 comments

Discussion

  15 months ago
I once decided to drink beer while writing, but by the end of the night, while I was exuberant and inspired, dammit, I couldn't read my own handwriting. Another time, it was Absolut Citron and I, ending-up all involved in the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald until some godforsaken call to Robin,...read more my at-the-time surreptitious girlfriend, the pass-out, the achy morning awakening, the front door wide open, a note on my chest reading, "Called 911, take a breath of fresh air. Call me. Robin"

The supposed corpse on the couch lived to tell. Nice poem about lone wolf writers, the intensity of the left-to-rot and the possibility of escape.
  28 months ago
I had a drink or two with Jack once. We just drank.
  28 months ago
I love the ending to this one.
  28 months ago
One of your best poems, Michael. It speaks to me. Very strong.
 

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