Free Jazz
He laid queer.
Unadorned,
he silently inhaled his loose leaf
cigarette,
on a sheetless mattress
that was
an Anarchy
of marked books
stolen from his alma mater.
he had Peppered his philosopher’s throne
with scratched on notes
And printouts of premature essays,
stained by spills of espresso
And french reds. (bordeauxs and beaujolais were his favorite)
Ashing on all of it,
his eyes stared at the catastrophe before him.
Closing his lids,
a tear dripped down his cheek,
A swirl of smoke careened
from his mouth,
his mind spiraled rhapsodically
to the heavens he reached.
A place in truth.
A time for grandeur.
A sight of Beauty.
He laid queer.
Unadorned,
he silently inhaled his loose leaf
cigarette,
on a sheetless mattress
that was
an Anarchy
of marked books
stolen from his alma mater.
he had Peppered his philosopher’s throne
with scratched on notes
And printouts of premature essays,
stained by spills of espresso
And french reds. (bordeauxs and beaujolais were his favorite)
Ashing on all of it,
his eyes stared at the catastrophe before him.
Closing his lids,
a tear dripped down his cheek,
A swirl of smoke careened
from his mouth,
his mind spiraled rhapsodically
to the heavens he reached.
A place in truth.
A time for grandeur.
A sight of Beauty.