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About Literature / Professional John FinchMale/United States Recent Activity
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I’ve dealt in drugs and dishonesty,
arguments and poetry,
litany and blasphemy,
brotherhood and infamy,
ghosts an’ crip’ling anxiety,
depression and dream eulogy,
the barren land and forgiving sea,
stray dog freedom and love’s slavery

broken homes, hollow bones,
always answering-machine telephones,
junk sick beauties with sunken bellies,
looped movie menus on static tellies,
skinny spirits in plastic dresses,
absolute absence and golden tresses,
everything else in red and black,
the sun on skin on the walk back

moving forward, no map in mind,
boozy bums lose track of time,
I sat at station longer than I should,
all that coming, and going, felt pretty good

the whistles, the motions, the movements, the purpose,
was better than the thistles and madness of presence,
when one builds a monument, they too build a tomb,
and eventually we are only ghosts in a room …
I never told no one about this,
because I didn’t really think it important,
but my stepdad used to beat our dogs in front of me,
like he was showing me what the world was…

                                                               ***

       the world is what you make it,
               a beaten dog or a lion

                                                               ***

               and if you find out you’re a beaten dog,
                       don’t ever let the fight leave you,
                       don’t hesitate to bite the hand that feeds you …

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He had a mouth full of bullets and a dead tooth,
       his gun was his tongue,
       and his tooth was his curse;
       it was placed upon him by a banshee,
       who was overfull of jealousy,
       for he was on prowl constantly,
       and had tasted so much pussy,

               so he only laughed and drank cheap whiskey,

                       in-between ballads in back alleys …

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I knew a cowboy by the name of Colors,
       and he sang love songs about disemboweling ghosts
       and he sang sad songs about all our fathers who had forgotten us
       and he sang songs so full of hope you would swear the revolution
               was coming when the sun rose in the morning


And he scooped up the world and shattered the false light,
       honestly and sarcastically shouting, ‘Drinking Coca-Cola makes me human!’
       before disappearing into the darkness of the indifferent city,
       only to be found perched on roof of funeral home seconds later, smiling—
               a vulgar spirit-city Peter Pan with genius-guts and careful heart

                                       ***

And he took a gamble, and threw all his chips into a bet on California,
       and he wandered Haight, and wiled all around San Francisco,
       getting stick-and-pokes from strippers before laying, blazing in the grass,
       and nobody liked him, and everybody liked him, because he was the last
               real person, the last real cowboy on earth—

                       if he could ever even weep,
                               it would have been
                               when he looked out
                                       over the vast Pacific

                                       ***

And he returned and thought everyone assholes,
       and he was probably right, so he sat in suspenders gluing together collages
       while eating acid and watching reruns of old Simpsons episodes,
       and he was enlightened, pasting, layering synthesized sounds
       atop one another, construing songs like the clipped paper pictures
       of Mickey Mouse and Christ juxtaposed and crucified on crosses
       constructed of blasphemous-babe-painted bomber-planes which
       laced classic landscape reproductions of thick oil pastes swirling
       into rolling fields and disappearing in the distance and the light,


                                                                                               of a sun,


                                                                                               ultra bright …
I think the day that Dean died for me was
       when I sailed over that asphalt sea
       across the desert where the sun hung orange and
       the great ball tree stands stoic, some of its balls broken,
       to arrive in city, after the night fell, and sitting at our old haunt
       was he, and his new girl, and they were blowing smoke into the air,
       and his tears had dried in all the hours it took for me to drive, and he
       stared at me like he didn’t know me, and my heart broke …

               that was the day Dean died …

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johnfinch
John Finch
Artist | Professional | Literature
United States
My name is John Finch.

I hope you enjoy my work.
:)
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:iconniimble:
Niimble Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2015
:party: :cake: :squee: Happy birthday! :squee: :cake: :party:
Reply
:iconjohnfinch:
johnfinch Featured By Owner Aug 15, 2015  Professional Writer
Thank you!

-John
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:iconjade-pandora:
Jade-Pandora Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2015
HappyB by KmyGraphic
John, I wish you all things 
wonderful on this
your very special day!
Reply
:iconjohnfinch:
johnfinch Featured By Owner Aug 15, 2015  Professional Writer
Thank you kindly! :)

-John
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:icongretzelboy89:
gretzelboy89 Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy Birthday!
Reply
:iconjohnfinch:
johnfinch Featured By Owner Aug 15, 2015  Professional Writer
Thank you!

-John
Reply
:icongretzelboy89:
gretzelboy89 Featured By Owner Aug 15, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome!
Reply
:iconholymacro:
holymacro Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2015
Happy Birthday!!!May you have a awesome day and many more!!!God bless!Hugs!  Glen:icontoyhorseplz:  :iconrainbowbummiecakeplz::iconrainbowbummiecakeplz::iconrainbowbummiecakeplz::happybounce: :happybounce: :happybounce:
Reply
:iconjohnfinch:
johnfinch Featured By Owner Aug 15, 2015  Professional Writer
Thank you!

Hope you're doing well!

-John
Reply
:iconholymacro:
holymacro Featured By Owner Aug 15, 2015
Hope you have a great day my friend!!!I am doing well!!!God bless!Hugs!  Glen:icontoyhorseplz: :happybounce::happybounce: :happybounce:
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