Thread: Hoboken, I'm Dying (Adult Language)

I hid in Hoboken
where I died daily

down by the Oldham where
the red-eyed man roamed

while I slept on couches
smelling like Schaefer

waiting for my Pa to come back
from polishing the moon

voice of the concrete night
is the sax, my Mare's vinyl

witnessed Kong beat baddies
all dignified in a tie

discovered sex through
the Mona Lisa

watched Christ on a '76 Sportster
kill the night with a wheelie

ate grilled cheese and dill
on apple-juice front porches

lost summers to double-sessions
for the sake of pride

found Plato and molded
eggs and ham for eternity

was deceived by the sirens,
their bodies too demonic to ignore

lost hours to the hand
wrenching ink from a brain

and I spent blue winter snows
beneath crystallized pines

lost my head on wine and
found it frozen to the ground

ate snow and pissed ice,
giving my body to the world

found a poem on the ground,
it came from a cloud

wept as the corpse said I love you
before closing the lid

kept the hearts of all my fucks
cause I still love them all

crept to the edge of existence
only to limp back embarrassed

and now
sleep on wood beds
hoping I'll be forgiven


down by the Oldham where
the red-eyed man roamed

while I slept on couches
smelling like Schaefer

waiting for my Pa to come back
from polishing the moon

voice of the concrete night
is the sax, my Mare's vinyl

witnessed Kong beat baddies
all dignified in a tie

discovered sex through
the Mona Lisa

watched Christ on a '76 Sportster
kill the night with a wheelie

ate grilled cheese and dill
on apple-juice front porches

lost summers to double-sessions
for the sake of pride

found Plato and molded
eggs and ham for eternity

was deceived by the sirens,
their bodies too demonic to ignore

lost hours to the hand
wrenching ink from a brain

and I spent blue winter snows
beneath crystallized pines

lost my head on wine and
found it frozen to the ground

ate snow and pissed ice,
giving my body to the world

found a poem on the ground,
it came from a cloud

wept as the corpse said I love you
before closing the lid

kept the hearts of all my fucks
cause I still love them all

crept to the edge of existence
only to limp back embarrassed

and now
sleep on wood beds
hoping I'll be forgiven

i loved this, it was like a whole new series of repetition poetry
extremely fun to read

This

voice of the concrete night
is the sax, my Mare's vinyl

witnessed Kong beat baddies
all dignified in a tie

discovered sex through
the Mona Lisa

watched Christ on a '76 Sportster
kill the night with a wheelie

Strikes me as out of place, the rest is very solid images. The first line of this section seems to lead you out of that, the last back in. If it were me I might lose the bit in between:-
Voice of the concrete night
Fills the silence with a wheelie.

Don't get me wrong, it has something, but you can't say everything at once, maybe it needs its own space. Equally, of course, I may have totally missed the point.

Edit: and the Kong beat baddies are a solid image.