Old Poetry IX – Believe In The Chip

Published October 18, 2021
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Back in the day, when I was about twenty-two and a bit later, ’til about twenty-six, I wrote poetry. I haven’t written a real poem in a very long time. I used to be so into poem writing that I would go to “open-mics” and read my poems with my friend and brief-boyfriend Calvin. Calvin was significantly older than me, and unfortunately, the relationship didn’t quite work out on my end.

Calvin and I would go to the Mercury Café in Denver and read poetry, and we’d also go to a place called the Kasbah. What’s interesting about that is that Calvin and I were two white gay guys, and the Kasbah (or Casbah) was a mainly African-American lounge that had a poetry night. So we’d show up and we’d be the only two gay white guys amidst a see of strong black poets. It was a little bit daunting.

Of course, I decided to try my hand at being a “spoken word” artist and composed a SUPER long poem. I tried to pull it off and I was clapped offstage (or played offstage) at both the Mercury and the Kasbah… very embarrassing. After that, and the fact there was a shooting at the Kasbah one night I didn’t go, and my interest in open-mic’ing kinda died out.

I used to host all my poetry, both good and bad, on my website, but it’s been a long time since I’ve done that. I’ve decided to, after approximately fourteen years, reshare the poetry that I wrote as a teenager and young adult.

Some of it is cringe, and some of it’s not quite so bad. You be the judge.

Believe In The Chip

Your words still haunt my ghosts,
My probable notes still hang around,
One way or another I find you hard to believe,
Believe in the chip, the blood circuit,
We all live life to the fullest,
We all hide in the darkness of our own mind,
There is no security, everything is always linked,
You can't be saved,
Don't try,
I'm already ahead of what you are saying,
You, you, you, you, you,
It's a five pointed down star,
Horns in my pocket,
I'm sending the message down the interstate,
Smog dragging into my lungs,
I lay and sink into my bed,
And dream of dying tomorrow,
But not tonight.

There was a period in my life where I was suffering from full-on Bipolar II and Borderline Personality Disorder symptoms and was undiagnosed. Some of my poetry reflects this.

Stay tuned for Old Poetry X

Image Based On A Photo by Harrison Broadbent on Unsplash

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