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Best Poems From
LAURENCE OVERMIRE
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285.
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Jettison Livingston Jones
Jettison Livingston Jones
Was an artist
In the truest of sense
A garbage collector by trade
He worked dutiful years sorting the refuse
Of wasted lives
Shoveling
Pitching
Compacting
Discarding
The useless, the mundane, the forgotten
And every night he went home
To a warm stove in a tiny cottage
Kissed the woman who stayed by his side
Through many a long, tormented hour
Devoting his last ounce of strength
To the art he so cherished
A masterpiece of soul, precious gift to the world
More radiant than the portraits of Leonardo
The burgeoning statues of Michaelangelo
Or the staggering stars of Van Gogh
The careful, steadfast tending
Of three delicate, priceless
Children.
(Previously published in Creative Voice, Feb.2000)
Laurence Overmire
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286.
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Jolly Saint Nick
Santa Claus invented her parents, I think
Out of something in his vivid imagination.
He carved them out of wood
Cold, heartless wood
And he stuck in the eyes and ears
But they never seemed to work very well.
He gave them lots of brains
But they were too busy mowing the lawn and doing the dishes
To notice that they had them.
And the amazing thing is
Santa made them think they were noble, caring loving feeling people
And the look on their plastic faces
When she slammed the door
Jumped in her car and sped away forever
Was just priceless.
(Previously published in The Poet's Porch, Dec 2000)
Laurence Overmire
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287.
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Just Out of College
Remember in our youth
Wed sit around the trendy bars
Serving words on golden platters of
Intellect
Words like polemical
Post-modernism, bourgeois
Antiquated, erudite
Oh what pompous little asses we were
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Man, thats funny.
(Previously published in ZZZ ZYNE, # XXXIV,2002)
Laurence Overmire
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288.
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Kerouac
Sounded the drum of his
Spent generation
Bobbity bomp bomp jazz me man
On the road without a home
War-orphaned
Drifting through the passing
Years
Nameless streets, forgotten bars
Lampposts dripping on dark corners
Hands to roll a cigarette
Words and women dropping in and out
Bottles to pour salvation
Soothing fire
In the cold flat of night
Eyes open and close
The music sassy, blue
Pounding
Surprising rhythms
Making it up
Beat by beat
As you go.
(Previously published in Pogonip, Apr.2000; Jack Magazine, Issue 1, Summer 2000)
Laurence Overmire
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