Poetry by Doug Draime | (2009 Honorable Mention)

You Might As Well Dance Till The Fat Lady Sings

Tune in to the tuned out
Turn on to the turned off
It doesn’t Matter
Anyway you work it
You can’t please ‘em all
Who cares if you’ve written
40,000 poems
Blind folded in a deep dark pit
Though you may be the
Last poet standing
Some poet-ego-enfant terrible
Will come along & bomb
You when you least expect it
All you can do is keep on keep on
Pounding those keys like freedom

Tune in to the tuned out
Turn on with the turned on
It can’t Matter
Anyhow you work it
You can only please yourself
Who cares if you’ve written
100, 000 poems
Blind folded in a pig stye
Though chances are you are the
Last real poet standing
Some poet-ego-enfant terrible
Will come down the road & shoot
You when you have your back turned
All you can do is keep on keeping on
Pounding those keys like freedom ringing

Tune out to the tuned in
Turn off to the turned on
It don’t Matter
Any time you work it
You can only please the moment
Who cares if you’ve written
420, 000 poems
Blind folded in a vat of pointlessness
Though the fact is you are the
Last poet with balls standing
Some poet-ego-enfant-terrible
Will stick the blade repeatedly into
You just as everything seems to be falling into place
All you must do is keep writing the truth as you see it.
Pounding those keys like freedom singing.

—-
Doug Draime emerged as a presence in the ‘underground’ literary movement in the late1960’s in Los Angeles. Most recent books include: Knox County (Kendra Steiner Editions) and Los Angeles Terminal (Covert Press). Forthcoming: Boulevards Of Oblivion (Tainted Coffee Press), and a full-length collection, Farrago Soup coming out from Coatlism Press. Another full-length collection (poems 1967-2007), working title: Transmissions From The Underground is looking for a publisher. Draime’s diverse range of writing continues to appear in publications worldwide. He has lived in the foothills of Oregon since the early 1980’s.

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