your demons are worth it

it’s Tuesday night
and it’s fast food burgers
and it’s dirty old underwear
and tornado sirens that rip the silence

and it’s a perfect time to talk to your inner demons
let them know they still matter in your life
that you haven’t forgot them
just because you held on to the same job for two years

the little bastards are so insecure
and possessive
humor them
get drunk with them
cuddle with them in your trash dump recliner
and call in tomorrow
use some big wind damage for an excuse
that’s believable enough
and your demons are worth it

rules for living

hear everything but believe nothing
keep your old f250 out of the ditch
water the tomatoes before the sun rises too high in the sky
and never swap the wrecked and rusted carcass
of a ‘67 Camaro that you don’t own
for a used Smith-Corona Super 12 electric typer
and a bus ticket to Clovis N.M.

you got to have rules for living
but you can’t let the power mongers define all the rules

bury your poems in a deep desk drawer
and don’t let them out until they scream and wail
wipe the sweat out of your eyes with a bright colored bandana
ignore all the people that claim they can save you
cherish the few that never tried
they are the true angels of the earth

and when you find that you need to bend your own rules to flourish
remember that the real art lies in the angle of your bend
and the grace with which you apply the torch

words rough as 40grit

you can spit
you can stomp
you can cuss
you can cry
but you were born with swarms of words
entangled deep in your DNA
unruly words
cantankerous words
words rough as 40 grit

you can scream
you can piss blood
you can blame the whores of Babel
but you’ll never pass for normal
and no matter how many sloppy stanzas
you pour down the page
you’ll never make your mother proud

you can howl
you can pray
you can blow the devil in his darkest den
but your fate is your fate
and you’ll stew in your life forever

but you’ll set those words free
or they’ll chew away every pocket of your soul

©2023 Preacher Allgood All rights reserved.

Preacher Allgood lost his bio in a bet on a game of nine ball. The bastard that won it threw it out his window in the parking lot and a gang of raccoons ran off with it.