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    Harmony
    Harmony
    Harmony
    Ebook86 pages34 minutes

    Harmony

    By Vincent Vecchio

    ()

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    About this ebook

    From sleeping on soggy cardboard boxes beneath bridges to panhandling and hitchhiking town to town along the Mississippi Gulf Coast, Vincent Vecchio makes his debut bebop of poems spontaneously dredged from craptastic times when he was a lost soul living on the streets fresh out of his adolescence. 

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherVincent Vecchio
    Release dateApr 12, 2022
    ISBN9798201396725
    Harmony
    Author

    Vincent Vecchio

    Vincent Vecchio is an on-and-off again writer and amateur photographer from Vancleave, MS. He’s had poetry published in The Write Launch, The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, The Evening Street Review, Phantom Kangaroo, Drunk Monkeys, New Note Poetry, Black Sunflowers Poetry Press and more.

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      Book preview

      Harmony - Vincent Vecchio

      By Vincent Vecchio

      For Kimber, my human.

      Table of contents:

      - The Phantoms

      - Dharma Bums

      - Oregonian Chagrin

      - The Devolved

      - Creepy McCreepo

      - To the Past

      - Commercials

      - For Tad Swan—

      - Never Ash in a Fly’s Eden

      - Big City Sad

      - (insert name here)

      - Rose

      - Hitchhiking

      - Star

      - Damn Sundays

      - Serenity

      - Homelessness

      - Social Media

      - Hangover

      - The Memory

      - Eclipse

      - Junk Planet

      - The Coffins

      - Fate

      -      Shaman

      - Amy Winehouse

      - Quincy, IL

      - The Graveyard

      - Opossum

      - Cheating

      - Divorce

      - The Caged Bird

      - Daydream

      - Eye Contact

      - Weekend Haikus

      - Daffadowndilly

      - Shakespeare

      - Zumbie

      - My Wife’s Terrible Gas

      The Phantoms

      Here they come... on they go...

      One by one in a row...

      Misanthropic phantoms

      Drifting by me on the street;

      All snuffed candelabrums,

      No warmth to meet;

      Shadows del Dìa de Muertos

      Like distant echoes from the vigil,

      Gregarious as gargoyles to greet

      Whilst they all a waltzin’ thru my peripheral,

      Yet always on their passin’ but a chill I feel,

      Each secrets hushed and skeletons concealed.

      A brood of bad bananas, rude & unpeeled.

      Where’ve you been?

      Where’d you dwell?

      Bless me your heaven.

      Confess me your hell.

      I yearn to turn you over like a stone,

      Cruise your every crevice, flesh ‘n’ bone;

      Kick down the catacomb

      & catapult flower petals

      Up your uptight spine

      to startle your tomb

      W/ a sunflower bloom;

      Veins fomented for the finest

      Wines to flow,

      Drawing agape the dreary drape

      ‘til we’re both aglow

      Like grinnin’ happy-go-lucky children again

      Lavished in the light of Lothlorien —

      Now incandescent in the distance.

      And when we’ve basked in

      Our fill of social sustenance,

      Our souls exquisite as bloodstones

      and its subsequent dookie

      Buried in the kitty litter of time,

      Let’s make like Mickey and Mallory Knox,

      Freed from society’s spooky pantomime,

      And hop the next train

      right out of town.

      No

      strings

      attached.

      Dharma Bums

      Surrounded by mirrors,

      And they’re all so empty,

      Reminding me of times

      That my mind felt nifty

      Enough t’keep me company,

      And there wasn’t this fear

      Of dirty 30 gettin’ near;

      But age is just a number,

      I guess, when every day’s

      A bummer and your life’s

      A mess.

      How astray I’ve led myself

      from my self.

      Been too damn concerned

      About jobs and wealth —

      Stressin’ about credit scores,

      Rent and retirement,

      Scarcely sparin’ a cent

      On my own mental health.

      I’m slowing down.

      Everyone’s speeding up,

      Chasin’ glitzy crowns

      & gettin’ tipsy off

      corporate cups —

      Slavery to the mammary glands

      of suit ‘n’ tie deities;

      Worshipping that elusive dollar;

      Whipped and poked

      & the flame of their anxieties

      ‘neath them stoked by fear of failure.

      Seems like Civilized Life’s allure’s

      To lift off far from the ground,

      Forget about soul and soil around,

      But I want nothing of that

      With but a rucksack on my back,

      hitchhikin’ out east to west, north to south.

      Gonna sleep next to brooks

      & big river mouths

      And look to get starry-eyed slumber

      All alone,

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1