the moon is clear tonight,
though i can’t see it
these words are beautiful
though you can’t read it.
In this twisted world, of sunsets and bad tattoos
needles, and bruises
and the drug abusers
and the wrong word said at the right time
the left is right, and a song still shines
like a penny in the sand
listening to the mind, jingle, jangle back and forth
the journal of a madman, from back before
i am the graduate to unemployment
a ticket to work, my degree grows dust
and I look forward, to the next cigarette
and the television set, to sell me a few hours
of defunct reruns or, reality tv shows
where nothing makes me hurt worse
then those, who know but don’t know
struggle with mental illness
and you are labeled a misfit
i am a disease in a lung for hire
i am the sun in the shadow
the bird on a wire
the leonard cohen, who writes
for us Beautiful Losers
I welcome the unwelcome
to see the truth, in beauty
in poetry, and the spray paint
of brickwalls, we are all
and we are none
we are the generation under the sun
we are all and we are one.
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