Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

The Clover Club

by Michael Cooper

Poison red drapes the room;
musky shadows fill my head with desire.
 
A piano’s tinks pervade,
the soft notes carry me away
 
to happier times – when
I was in love with the world
 
without condition.
Now I sit,
 
muse;
drink into the night.
 
What today is worth loving
save my Brandy Alexander?
 
Not fiction
(trashed by middle-class mothers)
 
Not technology
(always advancing, consuming its consumers)
 
Not women, not men;
not any human being
 
for they are the fuel
forced down my throat after I overdose.
 
For they are what bring me back;
they are what keep me here on this desolate planet.
 
They are what trap me with Life.
And so I sit; so I wait
 
as though there is hope for hope
but there is none – that I do know.

Added: 29.04.2011

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