April 2005 
National Poetry Month

 

Third Set Burn

 

I’m not your Johnny Wad 
looking for a mike and a light.

I can share the reason I was born 
no matter where you stick me.

But, you’re not listening. 
You can’t even make up what I might say.

So, tell me again, what I’m here for.

I’m ready for my third set burn, now.

Just give me a good mike and a spotlight.
I’m here because of what I wear on the inside.

So, where are the excellent party adventurers?

Is this where large numbers gather 
expecting unplanned events 
supported by no-income-art-people

musicians viz, garage bands, 
and the over-fifty alcoholics who escaped disease and death by traffic?

Pay no attention to the ten-ton fish on ice.

Just give me a crackly mike 
and a bad-ass floodlight.

I know what it's like to walk around 
high as a kite on moonlit nights

but when I get up in the morning there’s always 
a four stroke hello and a seven fold amen.

I’ve taken all I can stand but I’m still here.

I’m waiting for my third set burn.

 

A poet needs a smoke screen 
to hide his clueless ambition,

his adventure in crowd participation, 
one more journey thru cold-shoulder-land, 
a brief spot on the radio hour 
for those of you who missed church.

I’m taking it to the limit one more time.

Get set, turn it all on, bad mike in a lovely light, 
use it all up on a third set burn, a risky venture, 
where it’s ok to turn up your midnight fuel, let some of your shine rub off, bead up, drip 
from the love making you love to make.

It’s NOT about getting paid, getting laid,

it’s why you get up in the morning, 
save up all day  for a third set burn.

   

Photo by Eugene Brown

Copyright Jimmy Warner, 2005