A Poet’s Advice

A Poet’s Advice

By D.S. Jones

I don’t believe in myself 

the young writer says


I bet you don’t believe in society either

I tell him

he tears away the seal on a fresh pack of cigarettes

and realizes his smoking is a form of luxury

he is happy to kill himself

in such a dignified way

I wipe my mouth and tell 

him we at least have something in 


and we walk through the woods on our way,

both exhaling the primitive beautiful

smoke of life surrounding us

Poems by D.S. Jones are available to read in Painting Lines On The Highway To Hell. Available now exclusively for Kindle. 

More Questions Than Answers

I don't know what I'm doing with my life
No one I know does
We just get up and go to work
Write the checks that keep the lights on,
The dishes washed and the coffee hot
On the weekends we retreat to the small warm corners of the world where we can eat, drink beer or tea when the rain falls
The coffeehouses can be our home, last refuge or the pub
Picnics in the park when the lights first come on
The sound of birds the only primal scream we can stand to hear in our busy working lives

Make America Grunt Again

Make America Grunt Again:

Put every sick American on the floor and pump away.

Take every poor immigrant starved to death by a dictator on her knees.

(momma needs the money)

Stack the tax returns in the fireplace and strike a match, you alone are above the law!

Make America Grunt Again, as you explode inside her like a bunker buster bomb. FREEDOM!!! Your cock and ego flow, bigger than anyone who ever lived.

(you pretend)

God bless America. … the whore …. you can use and walk away from.

Too bad WE the people can’t say the same,

Sitting at home alone beer in hand, drinking to the thought of debt collectors, minimum wage an unlivable sum.

(this one predates your reign)

We the people are too tired to wake up on Election Day, too angry to know the difference. Our feet too sore, and backs too stiff.

Looking for some brown god to blame. We stand at attention at your rally. CRY.

Make America Grunt Again we cry, as you fuck lady liberty in the ass as hard as you have the rest of U.S.


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