UBER VS. TROLLEY

You finish up a poetry reading at a coffee shop in West Philly.  You feel you missed your mark on your performance.  Things were a little off.  Well, those are the breaks that we have to live with.  Voice was weak and hesitant.  You would think the extra strong coffee would cut the lethargy but not tonight.  Best to get home quickly and lick your wounds.  You need to find your way back to the train station to catch the R7 toward Trenton.  Homeward bound you have to consider your options.  Stand and wait for a trolley or order an uber ride.  These decisions weigh the moment.  You will get there and make it home.  That seems to be the only thing you are sure of.

Uber running high

although the optics are cool

I see the trolley

30th Street Station calling

me back from Baltimore Ave.

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/fuche_bu/poem/1069175

LINEBACKER WITH A POET’S SOUL

I was always a defensive player so my mindset was always focused on brutalizing the sissy skill position players.  I had that mindset of a linebacker.  One year, I had a bloody nose that lasted the entire season.  Every practice, every game, the wound would get opened up.  It was awesome.  I would be in the defensive huddle with blood all over my face exhorting the lads to buck up.  My behavior toward quarterbacks was downright uncivil bordering on criminal.  An every day citizen would go to jail for doing the things I did to quarterbacks.  But it was always just a game.  I’m gonna clothesline the tight end and knee the QB in the groin and then go write an inspirational poem about it.

Angry linebacker

harboring a poet’s soul

in spite the carnage

a gladiator in verse

wiping blood and sweat from brow

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/fuche_bu/prose/1082291

UNDETERRED

I could whine

about Ginsberg

or Rupi Kaur

or the general state

of the universe

and it would be

hollow complaint

falling on deaf ears

waiting to dismiss me

waiting to tell me

I’m nothing compared

to Corso or Dunbar

or Dickenson

or any other poet

my run on sentences

paraded publicly

as profound verse

fooling next to no one

but I continue

undeterred

with minimal complaint

I live and let live

They do their thing

and I do mine

I’ll likely be content

when I meet my maker

imperfect, ever brutish

I followed my own muse

Undeterred by critics

I dug into the vortex

entirely at my own pace

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/poem/1121280

IN AND OF ITSELF

Sipping coffee

in a hotel lobby

The Eagles are singing

“Take It to the Limit”

on the radio

maybe it’s a play list

but those days

are long since gone

It’s no longer

about pushing limits

or squashing boundaries

but as caffeine

rejuvenates a weary soul

you realize

that survival

in and of itself

is pretty damn sweet

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/poem/1119371

OCCUPATIONAL HAZARD OF A BUKOWSKI WANNABE

Having a chat

with someone about getting old

I hear him declaring

“I don’t like hangovers anymore.”

And the thought triggered,

“Did you ever really like them?”

It just seemed like

such an odd comment to me

I simply have to ask

so I query,

:Did you ever really like them

at any point in time?”

and I watched him

and listened to him

stumbling over his own words

hopefully coming to realize

the absurdity of his statement

I just laugh it off

The bartender persuades me

to get a full liter pour

for last call

I guess, like it or not,

it’s going to happen

from time to time

just an occupational hazard

of a Bukowski wannabe

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/poem/1107668