I won second place in a poetry competition for this back in April.
call soda "cold drinks"
and gas stations are "fillin' stations"
where they take their automobiles
to put some gas in from foreign soils,
and when they were young
they would drink cheap beer
and lose their virginity
in the backs of pick-up trucks
with their high school sweet hearts
while listening to sappy country love songs
blaring from some radio station
that comes in all scratchy and distorted,
and on sunday they'd go to an old baptist church
to kneel at an altar
and beg their god for forgiveness
for engaging in activities of human nature
which their god created them to do
through predestination -
all the while, never questioning
the drunken hypocrisy of existence
in their old age, they sit out back
drinking beer and cold drinks,
talking about the greatness of god,
talking about the love of god,
talking about the justice of god,
talking about how god is the only judge,
about how god is the perfect judge
as they condemn those who don't go to their church,
as they condemn those who think differently,
who look differently,
who engage in interracial relationships,
homosexual relationships,
pre-marital sex, drugs,
rock 'n roll is the music of the devil,
but beer is the nectar of god,
even jesus drank wine,
turned water into wine
the old southern generations
call soda "cold drinks,"
they have a language all their own,
a way of life all their own,
a way of thought all their own
and they don't question
this way of life,
they go on with this way of life,
they don't question
this way of thought,
they go on with this way of thought
new life is born, the old generations decay
and die out,
old ways of life decay
and die out,
old ways of thought decay
and die out
that's how life is, sometimes
but it's all meaningless in the end, anyway
i write this, then go in and have a cold drink,
leaving the chirping crickets
to sing their songs of collective solitude
9/13/15
4/26/16
Poetry by Thomas Perdue
Read 575 times
Written on 2016-10-26 at 01:24
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southernisms (edited and expanded version)
the old southern generationscall soda "cold drinks"
and gas stations are "fillin' stations"
where they take their automobiles
to put some gas in from foreign soils,
and when they were young
they would drink cheap beer
and lose their virginity
in the backs of pick-up trucks
with their high school sweet hearts
while listening to sappy country love songs
blaring from some radio station
that comes in all scratchy and distorted,
and on sunday they'd go to an old baptist church
to kneel at an altar
and beg their god for forgiveness
for engaging in activities of human nature
which their god created them to do
through predestination -
all the while, never questioning
the drunken hypocrisy of existence
in their old age, they sit out back
drinking beer and cold drinks,
talking about the greatness of god,
talking about the love of god,
talking about the justice of god,
talking about how god is the only judge,
about how god is the perfect judge
as they condemn those who don't go to their church,
as they condemn those who think differently,
who look differently,
who engage in interracial relationships,
homosexual relationships,
pre-marital sex, drugs,
rock 'n roll is the music of the devil,
but beer is the nectar of god,
even jesus drank wine,
turned water into wine
the old southern generations
call soda "cold drinks,"
they have a language all their own,
a way of life all their own,
a way of thought all their own
and they don't question
this way of life,
they go on with this way of life,
they don't question
this way of thought,
they go on with this way of thought
new life is born, the old generations decay
and die out,
old ways of life decay
and die out,
old ways of thought decay
and die out
that's how life is, sometimes
but it's all meaningless in the end, anyway
i write this, then go in and have a cold drink,
leaving the chirping crickets
to sing their songs of collective solitude
9/13/15
4/26/16
Poetry by Thomas Perdue
Read 575 times
Written on 2016-10-26 at 01:24
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Kathy Lockhart |
