stark raving naked
by Christopher P. Mooney
This city in the early hours reminds me of the dawn streets of my yearning childhood
with its brown-stone tenements caked with mud and grime and putrid semen
trodden on by barefoot angels starved for attention with guts swollen on lard
The empty silver lifts with illiterate obscenities scrawled on filthy damp hollow walls
reek of wanton poverty take-away vomit and alcohol piss
Thick darkness and naked madness are everywhere and all around
as we sift through the wasteland detritus in broken-down alleys of eternal sadness
where intoxicated juveniles gnash rotted teeth at the uniforms
cool-cat hipsters turn tricks for gas money under yellow street lamps
and the pungent smell of cheap dope lingers always
in the dull bluish haze of lost souls and dead abandoned lives
The houses are eternal tombs and the beds mere graves
that play unwilling host to vast human souls laid bare to life’s carnage
who gave it all over for the quick hit the short con the long night
amid the sounds of ghoulish screams that could fill Golgothan valleys
and non-stop violent talk where nothing is said
as voids are pondered over and filled and emptied again
Suicide dames with bleached hair bawl in empty movie theatres
and bored subway drivers long for the body in flight
Soup and sodomy are on the menu tonight
Naked flesh will be chewed slurped eaten
and we will choke on the wet porcelain bones of other people’s straight-jacketed dreams
Time marches forward with booted feet on gravel
cast-iron ashtrays overflow with the doubts of the nearby world
and torn remnants of first-draft poems float away in the damp air
as I suck turpentine dregs from plastic bottles
aching for the end of nightmarish day and maybe for the end of it all