Good Man

“You’re a good man J.”

What does that even mean?

I know what people would like it to mean.

Successful people, people with hope, normal people.

People always want to feel wanted, loved, important, attractive.

They want to be cared for, thought of, remembered, flattered, fed and fattened.

But I just want to be left alone.

Not all the time, just when I have a few drinks in me and I’m feeling mean.

Like most of the time.

I’m not a cynical, self loathing, little bug, just honest.

I’ve excepted my role and I’m taking that ride, full speed, unbuckled, unprotected, grinning ear to ear and the herpes to prove it.

I wear the scars of a soulless world like the medals pinned to the chest of great men.

But I’m no great man, just ordinary, in the world of bad ones.

“You’re a good man J.”

Do you think I would let that go to my head.

I know better, I’ve been around too long.

I’ve had a drink with a murderer, broke bread with arsonists and  listened to the evil  conquests of rapists.

Forgive me if I don’t walk tall and puff the fuck up, but king of shit mountain doesn’t  get you a view above the rim of the bowl.

I wish I was a good man for the sake of honor and duty.

I wish I had a higher, noble purpose but the truth is I just want to keep my nose above the shit.

To not drown in the rude, abusive, insensitive, ignorant, detestable world we live.

Please don’t confuse my smiling, friendly face in a sea of arrogant, ugly, sneering fools as happy.

I am just smirking in the face of our inevitable end.

Either that or I’m just drunk enough not to care.

Either way, Cheers my friend


1 Comment

Filed under poems

One response to “Good Man

  1. your kind of a jerk but I love you

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