750. Watching AMC after Coming Home from Helmand Province, Afghanistan

Watching AMC after Coming Home from Helmand Province, Afghanistan

Travis Bickle, I feel you: deadbeat Marine
just returned from ‘Nam,
can’t sleep because of the dreams,
but you still need a job.

Like you, my parents don’t know my career
is a falsification of time;
37 rejections so far, I’ve sold
not one word of my rhyme.

We policed the third world but scum
lives on our own welcome mats:
pimps and publishers,
drug-dealers and Democrats.

I will pull up and push up,
calligraph and fist pump;
until, like you,
I’m ready, too.






All content ©Dario DiBattista 2011. All posts are for display purposes only and not to be considered published.

749. Even When You're Not Here

I can feel your hand woven into mine,
I can see your regal face so fine,
I can stare into your wide-eyed gaze,
I can smell your scent that stays,

Even when you’re not here, on my pillow,
Even when you’re not here, on my chest,
Even when you’re not here, right beside me,
Even when you’re not here, though it's best.

I can feel your chest rise and fall,
I can see your cryptic smile,
I can watch your peaceful closed eyes,
I can smell tomorrow morning’s lies,

Even when you’re not here, on my pillow,
Even when you’re not here, on my chest,
Even when you’re not here, right beside me,
Even when you’re not here, though it’s best.



All content ©Dario DiBattista 2011. All posts are for display purposes only and not to be considered published.