I want to tell you a little about this poem before I start. So this piece came to me,
I think I was walking down the street, or sleeping in my dream or dreaming of sleep at the moment.
No! It was the torment of my last dollar spent, and rent was paid, but the window was broken on the passenger side….
No! I exploring the deep dark suburbs, looking for some herb and it made me think of these words and check the curb.
Don’t think and drive because I was cutting people off, they were flicking me off, I was off in my poetry world and all over the road, while I wrote this piece.
The beast came so I had to hide my pad. I had to hide my pen or they would put me in the pen for not watching where I was going.
OR they give me a ticket at least triple digits cause shit somebody has to pay to make Portland the city that works.
You must thinking by now, Jerk won’t you get to the poem. I don’t want to hear about your fucking weekend, unless you did.
I must apologize. I didn’t
and I just need you to realize the exact moment in time this divine piece arrived.
It was a sexual eruption of inspiration.
You need understand the exact situation in order to understand the underhanded nature of this poem.
Otherwise your thoughts roam like blackjack, black berry, and iphone.
You won’t zone in, you’ll check out. Bring ‘em out! Bring ‘em out!
You can’t understand poems without knowing what they’re about.
So I must set the scene, and the stage, paint the picture,
take you there, take you back, back into time, so back to the back story.
So this piece came to me…
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