Friday, April 30, 2010

Eric Lawson is writing twisted poems to scream at your grandmother's house at 2 a.m. in the rain.

Kandahar Caviar

4/22/10

©2010 Eric Lawson

Munitions disappearing
Pack and helmet constricting
Uniform in tatters
Ambushed
Overtaken
Left for dead in the desert
A week has now passed
Only we three remain
To fight this war (?) again
As the indifferent enemy
Vanish into the caves
No supplies
No shelter
No hope of rescue
Darnell offers me a leaf
Teeming with maggots
He knows I am starving
"Just pretend, Charlie"
He says, lips blistering
"Pretend it's Caviar"


Ink Therapy

4/22/10

©2010 Eric Lawson

I chalk up the first one to
A prolonged night of drinking
I chalk up the second one to
Having something to prove
I chalk up the third one to
All the exes and one-offs
Who all had the nerve to
Scar me emotionally
Mar me completely
Drove me to drinking
And maybe even rethinking
My philosophy to the point
Where I am not only
Listening to Physical Graffiti
But I am wearing it - forever!
Tattoos on my skin
But never on my soul
Nothing makes sense anymore
Nothing except the ink
And the waiting chair
And the sleeved doctor
Who for a mere $300
Can make me feel a little
Less like an arrested child
And more alert and alive
Than any placating shrink
Ever possibly could


Meridia Veneer

4/16/10

©2010 Eric Lawson


Austere florescent lights bleach

The earth tones from her clothes

She staggers around the courtyard

With the dedication of an android

Children stay clear

Employees scoff

Security keeps tabs

Like a rabid mongrel on high alert

She drinks water from the fountain

Flashing neon store signs fascinate

Her miniscule attention span

Elderly shoppers sigh

Players take note

Security draws straws

Stained with blood, food, and sweat

Her clothes are mere afterthought

Medicines ooze out from her pores

Making her skin shine like armor

Tourists take pictures

Employees disperse

Security moves in

Acknowledging invisible specters

She smiles, collapses, and whispers

“Meridia”


Gerbil in Converse

12/23/09

©2009 Eric Lawson

Sleep in my comfy bed

Drink my morning coffee

Whistle while I work

Run on the treadmill

Poke my gorgeous girlfriend

Drink away the pain at night


Eat crackers in my bed

Double my coffee intake

Quit my dead-end job

Run on the treadmill

Abuse my mouthy girlfriend

Drink away the pain at night


Masturbate in my bed

Eat raw coffee beans

Look for work again

Run on the treadmill

Avoid my clingy girlfriend

Drink away the pain at night


Set fire to my bed

Steal handfuls of coffee beans

Mug strangers for money

Destroy the damn treadmill

Miss my girlfriend dearly

Accept the pain as part of life

Ignore the glass ceiling


Just Read Your Shit

12/3/09

©2009 Eric Lawson

Oh, for the love of everything sacred

Put down the latte with conviction

Stop your self-serving posturing

Just read your shit


Don’t ever try to force feed us

A heinous five minute diatribe

For a skimpy one minute poem

We are all slowly and painfully dying

Right before your unconcerned eyes

Andale, you pompous fuckwad

Just read your shit


Don’t lay on a monotone history lesson

So you say the Micmac Tribe actually

Mated with early European explorers?

Wow. Really? That’s nice. Who cares?

Is that all for today, Professor Wikipedia?

Just read your shit


Don’t dish out scientific facts either

I don’t really give a good goddamn

About peculiar reptilian sex drives

Is that actually supposed to somehow

Beef up your artistic pedigree, chief?

Just read your shit


And don’t glad hand me afterwards

With false smiles and modestly galore

Like I owe you some zesty ass kissing

Find your center, read the page, and speak

Tell me; what did you yourself write?


He’s reading it! A-ha, okay, at last

Now we’re finally getting to the art

I can now retract my critical claws

And I will listen whole heartedly

Because just like you, Sir Rants-A-Lot

I am always completely full of shit


Popcorn Delusions

12/11/09

©2009 Eric Lawson


Liquid butter and extra cheese

Make everything taste better


Racism

Genocide

Hypocrisy

Hatred

Intolerance

Violence

Execution

War



16:9 ratio and 65” across

High definition to the max


Real

People

Die

Without any dramatic flare


Lame!


Pass me the rose colored glasses

I’ve seen this old movie before


Blow something up already

Reality can’t entertain me

The clock is always ticking

So please make your point

Before the popcorn runs out