Saturday, May 14, 2016

Alan Catlin- Three Poems


The Monkey's Raincoat

He was
wearing
the monkey's
red raincoat
when he
came in
and it was
five sizes
too small
He looked
like a
walking
thunder cloud
dripping dirty
wash and wear
water on my
floor
Looked like
he might
be the point
man for
some kind
of strange
invasion


Music Men

They heard
tunes in
their heads
no one else
would ever
hear
They were
so whacked out
on where they
had come from
and where they
were going
they didn't have
any time for
the here
and now
They were
Music Men
lost in
the ozone
and their
plane was
coming down
so fast
you could
see the
spirals
in their
eyes


Cold Meat

The way he's
going he should
have been dead
and buried a
hundred times
or more already
He's cold meat
in the ground
Man
Dead
He's only
walking around
because his body
doesn't know yet
that his head
is gone


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