#Poem the sludge wall of cynical disappointment

He’s on a promise now
and is going down the gym,
singing bass in the local miner’s choir
and opening beer cans with his teeth

His rant, rage, rave, fume, spout, craze,
call it what you will,
is marginally improved
but remains, be warned, destructive

His sleazy, red light, sordid, trash aspect,
what he calls ‘the sludge wall of cynical disappointment’
is only held back by a paper-thin barrier
but if you knew him, you’d cut him some slack

He’s also swatting up on his Leonard Cohen songs,
yoga, and early Donovan stuff,
and he is, as well, unfortunately,
speaking French whenever possible

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