drink

on the East
Coast
they call it
soda

in Ohio
pop

in Russia
vodka

in Baghdad
suicide
bombers

in Japan
sake

in India
they pour
it over
their Gods

say aum.



devil

the newspapers don't care

the fat woman
with a face like a prison

don't care. you might

as well lie in bed all day
and talk to the walls

or hang yourself from
a tree like that
pusher that Kurt Cobain
saw one day.

you might as well
stagger drunk across

the street and get hit by
a car unless you find

something to keep you
alive, to keep you going:

try hatred.



crime report

Yeah Yeah Yeahs
tearing my head open
from the speakers

as the full moon rises
over the rooftops.

the moon is going away
from us slower than
it takes to die

like that one guy in
Columbus who flashed
a thick wad of money
while buying beer and
got shot in the head
and his money stolen
before he could get
home

and left behind a wife
and 5 kids.



About the author:
Ross Vassilev was born in Bulgaria in 1976 and now lives in Ohio. He is the editor of Opium Poetry Blogzine (http://opiumpoetry.wordpress.com/). If you want to read his poetry or contact him, go to http://rossvassilev.blogspot.com/.

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