and it's 4 o'clock somewhere behind my eyes

Tj Struska

morning full of doves

but the Angels don't want me

and the clouds won't have me

I am sad, I am very sad

as Brutus sticks it to Caesar

and cancer's a six letter word

but death's only five

and it's 4 o'clock somewhere 

behind my eyes

and it's jailbirds and maulers

and pearls in the mouths of frogs

As Beethoven plans his escape

between the bent back tulips

staring at the blue sky above

and beyond 

that's what they sold me

but it's busted like my clock

and it's 4 o'clock somewhere behind my eyes

And the crows are angry, 

The crows are very angry

but it's too little to late

with a poem I can't paint

but draw on the men's room stall

where Newton figured gravity

and I figured wrong

as the symphony screeches to a halt

and it's Christmas and New Year's

and the Fourth of July all next Tuesday

and life's a puzzle with too many pieces

and too little time

and the crows don't care

and the rain's still ugly all day.


  • Author: TS James (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 2nd, 2022 04:25
  • Comment from author about the poem: I just wrote this tonight. It has the feel of Bukowski without Bukowski and the crows are still angry
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 21


  • dusk arising

    This reminded me of how i felt wondering how many days were left and what i could do in them or should do in them and all sorts of visions and games went before me... the day they said it's cancer mate..... that was 2019

    Sorry if i'm well off the mark about your poem.

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