As the Ghosts Ripped and Tore E-Book

Joseph B. Raimond

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 21

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Unable to travel due to the ongoing Covid-19 pandemic, Joseph B. Raimond had the time to write and edit these new poems.

Leseprobe

Written in Fürth Germany 2017 to 2021

As always, in loving memory of Frank Abendroth and Tom Murphy.

For Conny, my perfect angel

Dedicated to Eric Woolfson

Cover art by Joseph B. Raimond “As The Ghosts Ripped and Tore” watercolor and spray-paint on paper, Fürth Germany, 2015.

This is DWM release Nr. 185

Contents

Phonograph

Hate

Joe Loaf

Can’t Can’t

Ballerina

Daddy

Thread

Rizla

Artistic Motives

A Lifetime

Broken

Bye Bye Rush

Silly Woman

Of A Lifetime

Civil Cold War

The Establishment

The Right Expression

Maintenance

Expecting To Fly

Budapest

The Ultimate Equalizer

Competition

The Glooming Hour

Honestly,

Toom

Employment

Withering

Timidity

The Ultimate MILF

Revive

Uncivil War

Amy Apples

Wait

Cough

Silent Prophets

Son

Citizen Joe

Discount

Fist Of Laughter

International Bastard

Cornered

As the Ghosts Ripped and Tore

Phonograph

No

I don’t want to buy that shampoo

On sale at some shithole store

In a limited-edition bottle

And smelling of strawberries

I don’t want to test drive

Your new model SUV

(stupid ugly vehicle)

With zero percent financing

If I act today!

I don’t want

To enroll in your business college

And earn a bachelor in business

To get me ready for my new

Soulless, suit and tie career

I don’t want to shop

In your new shopping center

With over a hundred

Brand name shops

Open till 9 pm

Only a few minutes from

The freeway exit

With lots of free parking

All I want is my record player

A cold beer and a bottle

Of good scotch

A bit of sunshine,

A warm afternoon

A pen

And a blank sheet of paper

Hate

No,

I don’t hate you

I don’t hate anyone

Except that fucker

Staring at me from

The mirror

That ass, that schmuck

That reminds me so much

Of his loser father

Joe Loaf

My small, unimportant

Paintings

Are like little breadcrumbs

That I drop along my journey

As I zigzag, here

Then there

Sometimes forwards

Usually backwards

To, well, somewhere

(not sure where just yet!)

The truth is

I have no clue

About where I am going

And each little

Unimportant,

Badly painted painting

If you put them all together

You would end up

With Joe Loaf

Definitely more politically correct

Than Meat Loaf

And about worth as much