georgia train

Buddy told me about The Information Man,
told me there were days you wanted to die,
that all 92,775 miles of a harmonica perfectly
tuned to Georgia might just show you rest
and take you 
to a convenience store
with a winning lottery ticket.

And if I bomb and
colours bleed into one,
then lemme see a black fucking heart,
lemme get lost at sea,
lemme drown in what I think I
can or cannot see in God
and lemme know exactly what he thinks of me.

If scars down my back are
the best I can give,
lemme rub in the salt,
lemme hold together my skin
by laughing in stitches
made from black shirts
still left unwashed.

That’s what Buddy told me.
Now Marshall tells me that he’s
stronger than he was,
and I’m inclined to agree;
roses watered with alcohol,
tempered by pills and
the doctor’s moderation.

Cheers, doc. Really.
I ain’t rebellious
but I’ve got a taste for destruction,
non-diet everything,
a propensity to take a life
by jumping from the last sofa
I passed out on.

And if in two-hundred-and-fifty-one
pages of nonsense
I can only write ecstatic,
so be it.
This is the other hand.
This is Wolverhampton’s best pre-owned
damaged goods.
This is the offer,
free to a good home.




Image: http://cdn.c.photoshelter.com/img-get2/I0000au_zpOw5UWw/fit=1000×750/Eastbound-BNSF-Freight-Train-at-Sunset.jpg


About DickensianJack

Born in Wolverhampton in November '93, moved to Huddersfield in September 2012. Studying at the University of Huddersfield. In love with the town - simple as that. As for the blog itself, I've been doing bits and pieces of writing (with varying quality) for a few years. A friend suggested I start a blog to share my work. Most of the stuff on here is poems, but there's other work interspersed on the page. Feel free to leave any comments on my work. Twitter: @DickensianJack (Jack Dickens) Facebook: www.facebook.com/dickensianjack Cheers, enjoy.
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