Sunday, December 26, 2010


I am removed
From the holiday groove.
They disapprove that I have the blues.
But what the hell?
I cannot gel.
With sophmoric things.
The swing and bling.
Dont ring my bell.

While they laugh and play,
I think of a way,
To find Santa Cruz.
Dive bars and booze.
The narcotic snooze.
Of those who are damned,
To peruse,
Words like this.
A poet's abyss.

I am confused,
By a "normal" mood.
There, I've said it again.
In the end,
I don't want to schmooze.
I care not to amuse.
I seek my muse,
So I am removed.

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