Poetry all Night Long

poetry all night long, steven humphreys, poetry, poems, prose

Like I told you before

I stayed up

one night

and wrote poetry

all night long

when I was fifteen

I am sure few

would understand that


and think I was

some kind of weirdo

doing something

that queer

’cause I was some sort

of Wussy Boy

yet, I had my share of fist fights

giving and receiving

bloody noses

it was about fifty-fifty

so you see, I wasn’t such a pussy


I had plenty of anger

and rage

that messed me up

because my parents divorced

I was abused


giving me enough psychological

problems for ten people

to pass amongst


I am different

and, I am glad for it

everyone’s different

so, I am not that unique

and gifted

I didn’t get an overload of excess

brains when born

I am certainly not

a genius


I kind of have a disdain

for intellectuals

I don’t know why that is

I just do

maybe, it’s because they nitpick

and argue about every damned little point of it

just for no other reason than to be disagreeable as hell

I’m not as strange as some

may believe

that is because they

don’t know me

like I know you

Certainly, if they did

know the real me well enough

they would still think

I had a slightly different slant on seeing things

in the world

I guess I could have been drinking too much beer and getting sick with a hangover the next day

smoking pot with my friends till I was cross eyed and freaked out paranoid running down a dark alley screaming and echoing ‘the green poodle monsters are coming to get me!’

making out with some girl that I didn’t write down her name and phone number and she probably was too drunk to remember if she even gave it to me

eating a hamburger

at those golden arches

and getting indigestion

watching Laugh-In on TV

and not laughing much

at that crumby show

playing the video game


knowing there just had to be something better in the world than playing that

but that video wasn’t to come until fifty years later

until Angry Birds came out

which is for children

which I play now

on my outdated Wii

sneaking into my parent’s liquor cabinet

and replacing the booze I took with tap water

when they probably already figured out that one

because they did it themselves when they were kids


sleeping, dreaming of that girl in class I adored that never noticed I was even alive

because she was interested in anyone else but me because I wasn’t good looking enough, a football player, or on the debate team…

But, on the other hand, what did I really miss out on forfeiting one long night with my old student typewriter?

I sure made up for the drinking part through many years

I drank myself under the table


in my twenties through most of my fifties

lucky my liver is still in working order

anyway, someone has to do it

I mean,

someone has to

write more


It’s my job

who told me so?

I don’t hear anyone

but me saying so

who else would?

I appointed myself

I suppose…

Sorry! I never felt like I fit doing anything else

I know that

I seem to work best at it

late at night

that’s where I get the best feeling

of when I know that poem

I am writing

is finally


around 12 midnight

because the poem gets that sound

about it

when I rewrite it a half dozen times

or so

but I am

writing this one

this time

in the afternoon

at 2:25 PM

that I didn’t finish

until 3:12 PM

Imagine that…

It’s a lonely job

but someone’s

got to do it

day in and

all night long

3 thoughts on “Poetry all Night Long

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