3 poems by Christopher Davis


From the blue-collared boys, with love

To escape the connotation(s)
          of the world.

1 — blue men jockey for brand
          name recognition,
                    swollen in yellow
                              cotton they swing
                                        their truncheons at pale,
                                                  scarred heads.

2 — sewn to a geographic location
          with nothing but wicked poles
                    to settle cotton love — they are
                              slaves in their own right to little
                                        white glazed men.

3 — such patchwork lives, to
          ward off poverty in droves,
                    one swing and intellectualism
                              thrives — on hours of self-
                                        appreciation dancing in eye shadows
                                                  to watch, to watch.

4 — those poised blue men,
          lawful citizens of the
                    yellow sunrise, revolt at
                              change, club opinions in
                                        masked contempt —
                                                  derive analogical satisfaction
                                                            from blue-collared boys.

5 — carried by dull beasts,
          riding the wave of blind
                    enlightenment, these blue men
                              will never melt in the face
                                        of the others, "N o T h a n k Y o u ..." why?
                                                  why don't they gallop
                                                            in themselves?



THE INORGANIC BLUES

And you want to hope?
Droughts, plagues, famine,
I hope colgate comes
Out with a new brand.

And why?
Gluttony, cruelty, strife,
I hope I live until I'm twenty two,
That's one long life.

What do you care?
Torture, amputations, manual
Labor,
I hope my hair
Doesn't fall out.

K-Mart has a blue light
Special, where's your blue light?
I hope that I become a blue light,
I hope that I never dim.

Why do you ask?
Genocide, ethnic cleansing, racial wars,
I think Friends
Is very witty.

I hear women
Can die giving birth
So?
Life kills, right?

I hope that they
Have some hope,
Because I swear,
Among all the death
Colgate will come out
With a new brand.

And I hope angels will
Clip their wings,
I'll close the cage
And I'll digest the key.



a late night swim

late night standing
          at a corner of a park
at a corner of a
          street, smoking a
menthol cigarette,
          because time seems too
short, because
          the cigarette is time.

late night in the
          diner, bright lights
and special soups,
          soup of the day, when
the day has already
          passed.

late night behind the
          diner, pissing
in bushes, pissing on
          litter, pissing
on asphalt, pissing
          just because
you feel like an animal,
          just because
you have no territory
          to roam.

late night in a car
          speeding because
you have no
          cigarettes to smoke,
speeding because
          someone told you that
it was against some
          law, in some state, on
some corner, on
          some street, just because,
just because.

late nights with nothing
          to do, but pay sobriety
for its meager rewards,
          late nights because no one
else is awake, because
          you don't want anyone else
to be awake, because,
          just because, just because...

drifting into the night,
          sipping coffee for a dose
of day, just because
          for some reason you miss
it, just because it was
          there, but now it is so very
very dark, now it is so
          dark everywhere,
now you can't
          even see because the
fog is too thick,
          just because, just
because it wants
          to.




©Christopher Davis.

Chris Davis was born and raised in the sunny flatlands of Oakland, California. Trapped in a crime-filled neighborhood, Chris and his mother drove cross-country when he was thirteen, settling in a suburb outside Philadelphia. Later, he left for Albright College, where he remains for the time being.

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