Saturday, July 23, 2016

RUSSIANS


have guts:
they know
they're fucked
but they stay
Russian.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

FOR THE GODS' SAKE


stay a mystery.

Let me do
with you
what I want.

Keep
your secrets
& keep
your stains.

Keep
whatever is old
new, unknowable.

Once you tell me,
even in the bluest whispers,
it's twisted
by the very air
pushing against
our skin.
Instead,
I will watch
that which moves
without thought
or motive;
I will know you
by your absence.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

Friday, July 22, 2016

THE DANGER ZONE

http://bit.ly/2a5CTRk

His blues still shouts blind
in this darkness we're in.
It's a piss-poor choice
to choose from and gleefully
lick our hands anyway.
Mussolini on the balcony
tossing bouquets of bombast
while the Wicked Witch tries
to sniff out infidelities
and infidels. Who could
blame her
for feeling entitled
after living with God's gift
to neurosis?
She can still hear
his honeyed voice
full of Hope
& bullshit say:
"Had a hard day,
need to shower."
And still she could smell
sex all over him.

Mussolini had Fred
& Roy Cohen to get him hard
& now he keeps his daughter
closer than his wife.
Something's up
with that
is something
he might say.
I'll just lie down
on the nearest couch
& wile away my days
waiting for the world
to whimper & sputter
& spill from the sounds
& the furies of
nothing.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

ISLAND HOPPING


I've sweated
& absorbed
hundreds of cultures
while your blood
courses with thousands.
My island
is steel.
Your land
is sunshine.
We shake
from the glint
of refraction.
The coronets
are filled
with blood;
the games
are yet
to begin.
Nature & man
are majestic
& depraved.
Mad desire
moves all.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

Monday, July 18, 2016

MELANIA


loves me
she said,
but can't fuck
with her prenup.
That's OK
with me:
married women
are safer
married
(not to mention
richer).

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

Sunday, July 17, 2016

TO MAURITIUS...WITH LOVE


The blues
will tell
you...rock
'n roll
rockers
& punks
& hip
hop
artists,
the mad
painters
and soon
to be mad
civilians;
they will
shout,
scream
stomp
& stroll
down the
avenues
of the
dead;
Madagascar
will moan
& Arkansas
will sway
to the harps wind;
glass will hide
underneath a dream
of white while horses
run away
over the hills;
a deep bone ache
abides like a good
slide guitar
in a whiskey walk...
There is no better love
than the one that's
lost and
you can appear
like magic;
I've made it easy
for you:
I'm listed.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

Saturday, July 16, 2016

FUCK AN APPLE


I'd tell my students,
bring me some pot instead;
they were almost adults
& so better able
to handle
the truth.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016