Sunday, December 18, 2022

I Don't Belong Here by Wayne Russell

Trapped in this snow globe of sorrow,
the perpetual end of the bar, seated alone.

High-end drink? No, not for me, thanks
but no, I'm from the trailer park, so you know
it's the pint on tap for me, now and always.

Working class guy, windblown weathered
hands, chapped and calloused by throes of
cruel time, a blue-collar Trojan horse in the
white-collar bar; out of place as always.

But this man with a child in his soul has no
interest in the match playing, muted on large
screen, plastered upon the posh walls, always
at the other end of the bar, my friend's shadows,
and silence are here to keep me company.

The snow plummets outside, and in my sorrow
filled eyes that register pains of a world gone
to the wolfs, baying for blood, always.

The ball is kicked through the net, TV people erupt
into hysterics, silently, and in slow motion, bar
patrons go unfazed, at least we agree on something.

Bartender another round-








Wayne Russell has been many things during his lifetime, he has been a creative writer, world traveler, graphic designer, former soldier, and former sailor.

Wayne has been widely published in both online and hard-copy creative writing magazines. From 2016-17 he founded and edited the now-defunct online creative writing magazine, Degenerate Literature.

In late 2018, the editors at Ariel Chart nominated Wayne for his first Pushcart Prize, in addition; Wayne was nominated for Best of the Net via the editor at The Abyss.

In 2020, Wayne had his debut paperback book of poetry published by Guerrilla Genesis Press; Where Angels Fear is available for purchase on Amazon.




No comments:

Post a Comment

Them Voices.. By Michael E. Duckwall

  I tried talking to myself, they say ten different voices in one head means “Schizophrenia?” or however you spell it. The voices say “My sp...