someone teach me the reasons and not the lesson…

‘filipendulous’

tired. spell it. two vowels and thirty-three bowed vertebrae like overpacked luggage from my spine. i’m good keeping possessions but what i own ain’t mine. a chest with a hole and no room to fit in. one more scotch or bourbon don’t ask for reasons i wouldn’t know where to start and if i did you wouldn’t listen. a shadow scabbed over shouldn’t be picked. so what to do when the lies itch? hard work pays off in the end, my father once said, then i laid with his stiff cold corpse and the times told tomorrow as a boy no longer applied. so now a man i am lost holding an iou with no bank to deposit or account to withdraw. my smile often keeps the corners but i’ve no face to back it up.

'filipendulous' 

hanging by a thread

#barflypoet

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and this is why i love writing from bars.

i think i need to go on tour…

‘she’s just angry’

cries:

he used me

he took all the best

i was.

she sucks angry on her cigarette

the way she sucked angry

on his dick.

#barflypoet

#josephapinto

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moments are few but here is my one…

‘avoidance’

mother and father took the tines to my eyes but never time to soothe my tongue and so much of my embryo goes unanswered like why did i grow into who i am and why do i see now what i’ve been blind to before and who the fuck nourished me when most obviously my bloodlines ran thin? i am not yours and clearly i am so wayward how could i ever put forth a signal to be heard? generations ensuing my cells will never know the pliancy of my flesh but my daughter keeps the consistency of who i am and for that reason alone i stay present in all my moments no matter how they crush me. 

'avoidance' 

an action of emptying, 

vacating or clearing away

#barflypoet

#josephapinto

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perfectly whole yet not quite together…

‘monachopsis’

a thousand interlocking pieces yet none hold the smooth to slip me in. a shape with projection i seem to push the mass away. even if we lock would i ever want to conform to your spatial monotony? i hear what you’re saying but it’s falling on deaf ears. you want me here but a path leads from the sash i’ve left open. inch turned to gap. the draft never turned your head to notice so neither will the guilt when i move on. it’s a pretty picture when all comes together. there’s a hole in the middle rendering it obsolete. 

'monachopsis'

 the subtle yet persistent

feeling of being out of place

#barflypoet

#josephapinto

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‘death no matter’

these people

they think i die to drink

no, no friends

i drink to die.

#barflypoet

#josephapinto

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do you stay well after the curtain drops…?

‘playbill’

fifth act. we find our protagonist once fool now hanged man center stage and all unfolding behind eyes does so unaware of severed cords to facial expression and while heart trembles worrisomely to outcomes beyond measure he’ll suspend expectation and keep forever his surrender

waiting. 

'playbill'

a poster announcing a theatrical performance 

#barflypoet

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where are the fresh voices and deliveries?

why is so much presented for the eyes

and not crafted from the heart?

‘beacon’

we live in a world

of posers and followers

desperate for the

free and brave

to liberate us

from all the shit. 

#barflypoet

#josephapinto

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he’s interesting—

he’s well-traveled

he’s a musician on weekends

he’s single

but he’s not my type.

i listen to her words

and shake my head sadly

knowing she’ll find a reason

to take him up on a night out. 

#barflypoet

#josephapinto

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looking thru the glass. and seeing nothing…

‘assassin’

something’s swimming in my snifter that shouldn’t be. maybe part of a bug or yet another piece of myself i’ve been forced to swallow and now repeats in untimely fashion like when i want to forget the knife holes in my back. usually i ignore all leaking down my spine but it’s hard when all i want to really say goes whistling through. i’m sure if i had you alone you’d see i’ve crossed your name off from my list. a concise unshaking line that speaks of cold-blooded laces knotted to shoes walking on. the rich irony to be mocked as boy who conjures things he can’t see when quite clearly here you are holding conversation with a ghost. when next i greet you, and you, and you, i’ll glide untethered and true in the knowing a single shot took me out and into peace. until then i’ll knock back this booze and ignore the defineless particles which once i may have been but surely now no more. 

#barflypoet

#josephapinto

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you figure things out the hard way…

‘yes isn’t always the answer’

yes isn't always the answer

i couldn't figure out 

what he meant

but it became clearer

after several shots of irish whiskey

look, sometimes you have to grow balls

and stick up for yourself

be a man and not some compliant pussy

that rolls over to your woman.

he suddenly got a text from his wife

and hurried home.

i poured whiskey down my throat 

stumbled in at 4am

walked into walls

pissed in the sink

and caught holy hell.

#barflypoet

#josephapinto

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© Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.

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'From My Front Steps,' 'Scotch and Scars' and 'A Distilled Spirit' poetry collections available in paperback and ebook on Amazon.

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