Four Poems by Scott Wozniak

Fuck You, Bukowski
 
Fuck you Buk
for filling my head
with beautiful words
written
on a thirty-year
bender.
 
Fuck you
for making me
believe
that poet
and drunk
are synonyms.
 
Fuck you
for the nights
I spent
with a gut
full of cheap wine,
and the incoherent
garbage
that was left
on pages
to mock me.
 
Fuck you
for making me
believe the lie--
Its easy to write
a great poem
while in the throws
of morning DT’s.
 
Fuck you
for being able
to pull off
being a poet
WHILE drunk.


When I’m drunk
its apparent
I’m nothing
but a drunk
who happens to own
a typewriter.






Happy to be a Feral Creature

The man
next to me
was drinking
Chardonnay
while talking
loudly
about his MFA 
and how he taught
English Lit
at the local
University.
 
Inevitably,
we started talking
Literature
from opposite sides
of the fence.
 
As we argued
about poetry
He exclaimed,
“Any poet
worth his salt
MUST read Kafka!”
 
I confessed,
I myself,
am a poet
who has never
read Kafka.
 
He scoffed
and sipped his drink.


I took a shot
of Jim Beam,
looked him
In the eye
and said,
“Fuck Kafka,
any poet
worth
a shit
MUST have,
at one time,
lost everything
they hold dear,
and had to fight  
for sanity.”
 
Puzzled,
he stared at me
with the eyes
of an animal
who’d never
seen the jungle.


 



Hearts on Fire

 
We are all
combustible.

Often falling
victim
to the fires
that drive
our fury.

Prone
to burn
all we love.

Happy
to scorch
ourselves
in the process.

Some of us
are accustomed
to walking
through flames.

Our hearts
are wrapped
in fire-retardant.

Others
get reduced
to a pile
of ash.






Hard to Judge from Moment to Moment
 
Some days
Are nothing more
Than a weeks’ worth
Of commissary
Gambled away
Against
A stacked
Deck.
 
Other days
Are a pardon
For the crimes
You committed,
And a C.O.
Telling you,
“Roll it up,
You’re going
Home.”




Bio: Scott Wozniak is a poet/chaos enthusiast. His works are widely published both on line and in print. You can find his recent and future publications by following @sewozniak on Twitter.