Winter Nights

Winter Nights

(By Walter Beck)

Trudging through nights that grow longer

When it's too cold to go barefoot;

Slow-sludgy riffs of Steele's growl

"Paranoid".

Waiting

For letters that say something

Other than "thanks but no thanks";

A strange bunch,

As Eric the Skinhead called them.

Just one

To give me half a chance;

It's all part of the game

But times like this,

When all I think of is another drink

And of going home,

It gets harder and harder to play.

Another friend of mine

Got married,

And I only knew

Because he said so online.

He was one from the old days.

Is it right to call them old days?

It's only been four years

But it seems like a lifetime.

My old man said he was extremely worried about me;

I don't blame him,

Nights in a cheap apartment

With a whiskey eggnog,

Fiddling with a cheap box cutter,

Muddy Waters on the stereo.

The snobs sometimes sneer at me

With my cheap food, cheap smokes

And cheap wine;

But it's the only living I know.

One night

When I was reeling from too much

Eric the Skinhead said

This would all pay off one day

That he wanted to see me succeed;

It was enough to get up to face another day.

From the Archives: A Burned-Out Mind on the Homefront

This poem is out of the dusty archives, this one goes back to August 2007 and it's one of my earliest "experimental" poems. I was in Terre Haute, having just moved there, I was feeling very frustrated and depressed, having just been through the Ransburg Affair. So I was listening to Eyehategod and started looking at their song titles.

Look for more poems from Walt's Dusty Archives!

A Burned-Out Mind on the Homefront
(By Walter Beck)

Sitting here, locked in for days, friends gone in their own lives, the phone lies dead, feeling like I’m Serving Time in the Middle of Nowhere, tray full of butts and ash, a symbol of an addiction gone mad, snuff residue laces my fingernails, am I just a Jackass in the Will of God?, cheap arguments with a bloodline, increasingly desperate searching on the GODMACHINE looking for cheap thrills and a moment’s satisfaction, a burned out hero just walking 99 Miles of Bad Road, remains of a Corruption Scheme, a sense of a Lack of Almost Everything, when he says I Am the Gestapo, entering the Age of Bootcamp, and in the end just Turn Troubled Tables.

*Song references from Mike Williams

The New Face of the American Poetry Underground

The New Face of the American Poetry Underground

(By Walter Beck)

Strutting on stage

With all the swagger of Axl Rose;

I remember the first time

I got on stage,

Starring down at the podium

And gripping the sides,

Not in ecstasy,

But to calm my shaking hands.

Now that mic is a weapon

And the mic stand the stock.

I’ve grown to hate podiums

Because they restrict my swagger.

Spitting fire and fantasy,

Shirtless, sweaty,

Dripping with stage blood,

Feeling like my heroes and idols.

Off-stage

I’m fueled by greasy take-out and Thunderbird,

Nights on and off,

Spent in bars,

Two-dollar gin & tonics

And five-dollar pitchers

With wild music on the juke.

Off-stage

I’m bombarded

With fantasies and dreams

Of fellow poets and freaks

Wanting to use me and use them.

Long-timers

Rubbing one out

To thoughts of me pulling their hair

And pissing on them;

Leading them around on a leash and collar,

And performing naked

While they submit

To my every whim.

Editors

Asking me

What the freakiest thing I would do to them,

And I said I would write a poem

In their own cum.

Freaks

Wanting to foot fuck me,

Lick and cum

All over this

Natural Hoosier leather.

On-stage, off-stage and on the page

I am becoming

The rock n roll poet.

Liberty is a Two-Way Street

Liberty is a Two-Way Street

By Walter Beck

Alright so I found myself in a bit of hot water again with my big mouth. I was on a GLBTQ activists group on Facebook and someone posted an article about that baker in Iowa that refused service to a lesbian couple and I posted the following;

“This may be an unpopular opinion, but as a private business, the baker has the right to serve whom she wishes to serve without government intervention.

However, in a capitalistic society, we can speak with the power of the dollar. If this baker doesn't want to serve us, that's fine; we'll take our business elsewhere. And we will encourage our friends to take their business elsewhere. The power of the dollar will speak louder and stronger than the power of the government in this case.”

“Unpopular opinion” was an underestimate on my end; I got slammed pretty hardcore for that commentary.

Now, I am a tireless advocate for the GLBTQ community and I look for true equality, but I also believe in true liberty. So if someone doesn’t like gays, that’s their right and I can’t fault them for that as long as it does not infringe on my rights or the rights of my brothers and sisters. I’m not asking for everyone to like us, if you think I’m gonna burn in hell because I’m half-cocksucker, that’s fine. “Bless your heart” as my grandmother would say.

However, your opinion should not affect the distribution of public benefits and Constitutional rights. If you’re going to allow two consenting adults into a mutual contract which receives over one thousand Federal benefits (most call it marriage), you have to allow that for all consenting adults, not just heterosexual consenting adults. That is true equality.

But I can’t sit here and say that you should go to jail just because you think I’m a fag; first off, that’s censorship and something that I’m adamantly against. Second, it would restrict your rights to your opinion. If you wanna call me a “fag” go ahead, just keep in mind that I will probably yell something back at you and it won’t be “happy birthday”.

This is how it all boils down, we both have our rights to our opinions and lives and as long as you don’t restrict my liberty, I won’t restrict yours. If you don’t want to serve me because I’m bisexual, that’s fine, I’ll take my business elsewhere. You are not bound by law to like me for my sexuality and I’m not bound by law to support your business, organization, church, etc.

I Weep for You (For Bro Cope)

*NOTE: This poem originally appeared on Facebook

I Weep for You (For Bro Cope)
(By Walter Beck)
I weep for you, sir;
Even as we are perceived enemies.
I weep for you,
Because you would mock my suffering,
Because you call my destruction,
A “LAUGH RIOT”.
I weep for you, sir;
To have such a hardened and callous heart
That you would take such joy
In death, pain and agony,
Then accuse others
Of being “lovers of death”.

It is you who loves death,
Not I,
For I weep for you
As I weep for all
Who’ve hardened their hearts so much,
As I weep for those
Who die bloody and alone.

I weep for you, sir,
And hope above all else
That you and the rest of your flock
Would rejoice in life and beauty
Instead of destruction and suffering.