Noel Negele- A Poem

It Doesn't Take Much

And as the awards were handed around

like emblems of egocentric masturbations

to all them stupid people

with those fancy hair

and their clear cut nails

And their white teeth

any man with that much of whiteness in the teeth

can’t be all that good

but then again who needs those awards

they should melt them down to something of use

a currency

loafs of bread

a blowjob maybe

and we both strolled around the town at night

the sound of our footsteps buried

under the sound of the rain

just like our glory

the one we thought we possessed

was buried, flattened by the years

strolling fairly drunk

but wanting more 

naturally

seeking in alleys for the postponement of the tragedy

trying to sustain something that cannot be sustained

we still thought 

happiness to be a lake in each man

rather than a river that flowed urgently 

but that was the first thing they took from us

and we decided 

amongst the thickheaded laughter

that we would declare war on them

just after that one last drink

and as we would stumble in search of a bar

or a whore house

or a drug dealer

or a fist fight

or a kind animal

anything at all

we almost stepped on a pile of shit

"Look" he said " look at this large pile of shit

that we almost stepped on."

I turned to look at him

"Look at this pile of shit!” he cried

“ we almost stepped on it but we didn’t.”

I stared at my friend

Looked at those shinny eyes in the dark

His smile drunk-wide and joyful

" How lucky are we?" he said

and that was it

that was enough

to make a man's eyes shine

like those of a predator before

embracing the life of a prey,

it was enough to make a man 

feel so undeniably lucky

so maybe there is hope

I thought

maybe we can still make it

maybe I can still make it

and just like that

we became something more than what we were seconds ago

we became lucky

until something in life

would come to reduce us

to something

less.

Another Chapter Finished

We met for the last time

at her place                                                                                                                                                                                            

I told her that when mistakes pile up

it gets difficult to look at yourself

in the mirror,

she said I had become

the worst version of myself

and there was no way of passing that by

I said I didn’t hate her

I only valued her more than 

I should

and it wasn’t her fault

we are young I said

we make mistakes

we think we learn

and then we make the same mistakes

and then we hopefully truly learn.

It's all going to be alright

she said,

and I felt the hour of departure

nearing close

like a snake slithering to it's nest

Looking at her eyes

I felt the forever farewell

climbing up my throat

Her image would never leave me

or maybe it would

sometime in the future

but until then

her lips would be imprinted in my memory

like a photograph

her small hand

resting on my chest

" I can feel your heart"

she used to say,

"I can feel my heart against your hand"

I used to respond

irremediably romantic

because of her

numb and inactive on the bed

full with love

or what we once thought of it,

she would still sprawl on the center of my brain

fueling many memories to a continuous slide

that would most surely

make me feel like shit,

but even that suffering would be sweet

even that suffering would be better than nothing.

We said our goodbyes

her eyes glistening with tears

and I walked out in the rain

aching from a lonesome sentiment

that I knew

would last

for 

a

very                                                                                                                                          

long

time.