Ghosts of Hollywood

sirens echo screams
through this paper thin
hotel wall
seems we all have animals
we must cage
dragons we must chase

I close my eyes
or do my eyes
close me
as horses tongue laps
through my bloodstream
I fuck the ghosts
of hollywood starletts
on cotton swab clouds

and down in the alley
judy garland leans
her anorexic
junkie shoulders
against a piss stained
red brick wall
hikes her pink silk sleeve
to reveal
powder blue veins
that scar her arm
of alabaster marble

and tonite
judy and I
are not afraid
to die
would be like
sticking our tongues
between midnites
bruised thighs
as we drift
like ghosts
into the silhouette
of this moment

 

Bridgett Bardot

I drink
fall down
puke
rise
to drink
another bottle

I write
this shit
& on good days
lose myself
between the thighs
of tender flesh
on bad days
find myself choked
between the thighs
of sad middle age

and some days
the sunrise ejaculates
between my fingers
like a teenage boy
lost inside
autographed photos
of Bridgett Bardot

 

Shit Talk

I hide
the fact I write
the way I once hid
my veins beneath
long flannel
shirt sleeves

it's not that
I am ashamed
of anything
I've ever done
I just don't want
to be lumped in
with all you
lame fucks
that should
be ashamed
of what you do

there's a saying
"write what you know"
and after sitting
thru a few
open mic
poetry readings
it's obvious
you fucks
know little

and I don't blame
the public
for not buying
this shit
I blame you
for wiping
your ass in public

 

Cigarette Moment

I need
a cigarette
& a stiff
double splash
on ice.
Gin with a lemon
curve of breast.
I need
your nude body
to slip
from my mind
like fingers
lost between thighs.
I need
this ache
for you
to wake alone
& drunk
at 5 a.m.
without a name.
I need a drink.
Gin with a lemon
curve of hips.
I need
your voice
to fade like
whisps of smoke
from this
stale cigarette.

---

      RC Edrington currently prides himself in being a bum, and long ago gave up the 9 to 5 slave cycle. He currently writes, paints, drinks, and spends long hours hunched over a pool table. Writing "poetry" for the last 10 years, he has only recently mustered the stamina required to send his stuff out for publication. His next chapbook is due out Summer 2003 by Babel Magazine.

Sisyphus Press will be releasing my chapbook, tentatively titled "Exploited Images", as a part of their "Outlaw Series" this summer - 2003

I publish a monthly 1 page ezine called "Spent Meat" I am always accepting submissions of poetry, short stories, reviews and artwork.

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