Apparently in 1972 I was listening to a lot of Dylan and Leonard Cohen and took a shot at writing some poetry. I found this one in a drawer this morning amongst others. I hope to hear your comments. Please feel free to be honest!
By Susan Cross
© Susan Cross 1972
Glaring blank faces
Wide-eyed open spaces
Show up clearly when you can’t relate
To the pace in the mazes
Of the frenzied rat races
That tear down everything you create.
When you feel like you’re beaten
And everyone’s cheatin’
You still bit but the hook’s got no bait.
After everything’s broken
You find yourself tokin’
Long deep hits of thick city air
Some crystal cold coke
And the factory’s smoke
With the people you know didn’t care.
You felt you were been beaten
Everyone was cheatin’
Without something there’s nothing to share.
Games that you played
Going out to get laid
Finding out that the rule wasn’t gold
Scores that you made
Not worth prices you paid
But you knew that some things can’t be sold.
Now you’re sure you’ve been beaten
It’s been days since you’ve eaten
Anything, anyone, young or old.
In two brown paper bags
You packed all your rags
And prepared for a long distance ride.
A little time lags from the junkies and fags
You ran into a place you could hide.
You feel you’ve been beaten
And the city’s been cheatin’
All your desires were always denied.
You tried a new place
Another pretty face
But you knew all along it’s the same.
New tails you could chase
Someone else on your case
Your surroundings were never to blame.
So there, too, you got beaten
The whole trip’s self-defeatin’
You’re asking yourself why you came.
Something you said
Spinning round in your head
All the answers you tried to avoid.
You wished yourself dead
But kept goin’ instead
It was the misery that you enjoyed.
Yes, you liked being beaten
By anyone you were meetin’
You’re still licking the wounds where you bled.
The decision you made
To take out in trade
All the bad hands you thought you were dealt.
Forever afraid of the shiny sharp blade
That could end all the hate that you felt.
You’re the one who’s been beaten
And it’s you who’s been cheatin’
So the anger and pain’d be delayed.
Well, come on big shot
If you think you’re so hot
Try to put it together at last
You’ve bullshitted a lot
Now you’re on the spot
Cut the self-pity crap—do it fast!
Or you’re goin’ to get beatin’
You just can’t live with cheatin’
Now it’s Russian Roulette—just one shot.
Excerpts from Leroy Cooper's memoir as told to me during conversations that took place during the 2 years we knew each other. I also write humor, flash fiction, celebrity interviews, real and made up stories--see if you can guess which are which.