The Poet

There you sit in your window well
never think of anyone but yourself
drinking alone every night and day
pounding on the typewriter
you're a poet you say

You were a handsome man a few years past
but the whiskey and the wine took care of that

When I was young I fell for your words
but those pretty thoughts on paper
don't mean much to me now

Now I need some real communication
and I don't have time
for empty conversation

And now you call me up
and say terrible things
why when you'll take it all back
on the next ring

Get out of your neighborhood
out of your three mile radius
don't criticize me
till you've done at least one thing for someone else


Go to your lonely room
it's safe in there
look out at the city
but long for the country air
ache in your body as you move through a series of days
why don't you ever make the necessary changes?

I've known you for years
but still it seems you've learned nothing
about living
after all this time you still hide behind empty words
pretty words, nice philosophy, but what's that gonna do for me
what is real for you?