Mr. Doomy Melancholy
by Jonathan Moody



I’ve got “The Waitress Stalkin’ Me at the Dive Bar Thinkin’ She Can Hang Tight with a Brother ‘cause I gave her the Time of Day Type Blues”

The reason why I’m plagued with the “I’m Tired of Bustin’ My Butt to Separate Myself from Negative Stereotypes Only to Have a Knucklehead Reaffirm them in the Eyes of White America Type Blues”
is because I ain’t got the “I’m Too Embarrassed to Eat Fried Chicken with my bare hands in front of White Folks Type Blues”

I got those “The Only Time Strangers Speak to Me is to Say I’m a Souless, Triflin’ Sucker Who Should Watch My Step Type Blues”

those “Wishin’ the Monkey on My Back would transform into a Sunflower Seed Type Blues”

I got the “Can’t Stop My Inner Voice from Whisperin’ You’re Nobody until Somebody Kills You Type Blues”

& a little some of those “I’m Rollin’ 10-deep in the House of Mirrors & can’t tell who’s Stabbing Me in the Back Type Blues”

& the “I Keep Circling around the Same Mistakes but am too damn Stubborn to Admit I’m Kinda Lost Type Blues”

those “I’ve Asked Strangers Sitting at the Table next to Me if I could Bum a Square, & They Croon a Five-Part Harmony Explaining How They Quit Two Seconds Ago Type Blues”

those “I Found a Grey Pubic Hair in Deacon Jones’ Cornbread Scripture Type Blues”

& those “I’m Ready to get this Party Started, but My Dollar-Sign Flask is Kinda Dry Type Blues”

the “I’ve just Pulled out My Key & Discovered the Muse Done Changed the Locks on Me Blues”

& those “My Rusty Hopes & Dreams Been Sitting on Cinder Blocks for Years, & I’m Foolin’ Myself into Thinkin’ I’ll Restore Them One Day Type Blues”








Illya's Honey Literary Journal

Copyright by Dallas Poets Community. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.