Maybe I Should Try Harder?

drawing of the devil pointing

OK, how much do you want?

For the last four months or so I haven’t written any poetry, or wanted to. But recently I’ve been listening to songs by the musical group The Devil Makes Three. When I listen to the lyrics, they just lift me out of my chair. I can’t say what it is about those lyrics that sparks my imagination so much, but it do. Their music makes me want to get a bottle of whiskey, drive fast down a dirt road at night, and write poetry. So when I got to where I was going, with the engine still running, I sat in the road with the bottle beside on the dirt, and by the light of the car headlights I wrote a couple of poems. Here is one of them.
 

I’m a Little Disappointed

I found one of your letters.
You implied you might could love me,
if I would just be patient
and wait till Christ comes back.
I’m jealous of my former self,
who thought he had a chance,
till he went off
and I showed up,
knowing what I know.
Now I’m drinking gasoline,
and I’m looking for a match.
If Satan comes up to me
trading sulfur for my soul,
I’ll say, “Hey, man, put it in my hand,
then get away from me!”

I read a book on world peace.
They made it sound so good,
like something we should do,
and all we’d need is everyone
would be completely different.
I thought that I should try it.
How hard could world peace be?
I’d quell my fears and inner beast
with honey, milk, and brandy.
Then someone played his music loud
while I was trying to sleep.
Now I’m drinking gasoline,
and I’m looking for a match.
If Satan comes up to me
trading sulfur for my soul,
I’ll say, “Hey, man, put it in my hand.
Don’t try that grin with me.”

I went to see the Buddha,
I thought that he would know.
I thought that he could tell me
how I should be a good boy,
the twelve steps to enlightenment
and all that tranquil stuff.
So I walked up to him smiling,
held out my hopeful hand,
but he just sighed and shook his head
and asked me for spare change.
Now I’m drinking gasoline,
and I’m looking for a match.
If Satan says he’ll give me
phosphorus for my soul,
he’d better hand it over,
then run while he’s still whole.

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