Pants are NOT Optional

g

Differing narratives of perfection
As vexing as the “g” in poignant
Controlling all contrivances to don a dress in white

I walked down the aisle alone with a twisted stomach
Vomitless, thank God, as I reach your side

Life lessons are the very fruit of knowledge
Kept completely under glass whilst contemplating the size of my ass

Nerve endings starved of nerves. Deadened reflexes as grazing ensues.

Eating my way out of a crispy bacon house; a delicious fragile shelter no longer a place to hide cuz I ate it.

Clothes are so arbitrary like the final selections in a poetry contest.

Writing suffers on the holidays because I’ve no restraint.

I drank too much last night and my hair is pasted to my face.

A rebel fighting irrelevancy in a sea where nothing lasts.

Who are you anyway and what the hell have you done with my pants?

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12 thoughts on “Pants are NOT Optional

  1. Eating my way out of a crispy bacon house; a delicious fragile shelter no longer a place to hide cuz I ate it.

    Unga, I dearly wish for an oppertunity to get drunk with you if this poem reflects the kind of stuff you spew when you are a rebel fighting irrelevancy.

    I like it! Although I can’t understand it.

    • Thanks. I think a drink is in order and it would be fun. I guess what I was going for was an exploration of how people deal with their shortcomings – they try do everything perfect, or they get married, or they obsess over their body, or they eat too much, or they write, they drink too much, or they have sex with indiscriminate strangers. But in the end you should always keep your pants on – I was using the”pants remaining on” as a metaphor for keeping your integrity. I know it’s out there but that’s what I was going for.

  2. I think “pants remaining on” as a metaphor is wonderful.
    Because for sure everything changes once the pants come off!!

  3. “Who are you anyway and what the hell have you done with my pants?” may sound like the punchline of a dirty joke, but it kicks butt in the context of your poem! Ever read Aleister Crowley’s Konx Om Pax poems? It’s like you channel him sometimes.

  4. Yeah, in his lifestyle and the older he got the drugs really addled his mind. But when he was rolling he could pound out some great poetry. His volume called The Sword Of Song is pretty good, too and for art fans he wrote a whole volume of poetry glorifying Rodin’s sculptures! Think Rimbaud but a little further out.

    • You know I will have to take a look at this. I like out there stuff. It’s a shame, I know, that I’ve never read Rimbaud. I know he was Jim Morrison’s biggest influence and I really enjoy Morrison’s poetry and lyrics. I will have to read both, Crowley and Rimbaud, and get with it already. Thanks!

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