Author Archives: marcofreschi

About marcofreschi

I live in the Ocean and write poetry

the Code of the Road (part II.)

Breath in deep and sleep on your back in prairie-grass beneath the Milky Way’s cloudy arms in Wisconsin, and don’t EVER look back East to New Jersey, just keep moving, Running, Hiding in boxcars and rail-road yards, Two tattoos, One for each hand, As I Plunge my way deeper Into the Heartland, Savage Indian screams and axle-grease War-paint, Long hair matted down Over desperate scared face, Taste Blood and fear, and the immeasurable loneliness of sleeping on the side of a Minnesota highway.

So Here’s your American dream, So Don’t you Let it slip away; The Rocky Mountains are much colder When you got no place to stay. There’s a code of the road, for every beaten traveler, But Tonight the Pennsylvania Turnpike is the only thing that matters Escaping West to Ohio’s chest the wandering American will find a way

to Avalon.


Overgrow the Lovernment (Everybody Wants to be a Rat.)

Let’s go down, down

Where the Rats crawl around,

in the forgotten tunnels and dusty places

Let’s go down, down underground

to the lonely concrete holes and rusty spaces

Let’s squeeze in-between

The infrastructure’s cracks,

gnaw at wires with our Teeth

and always watch our backs.

Let’s slide away into the pipes

and I’ll show you a world

you’ve never seen.

Let your hair grow long

and join the pack

of sinister secrecy.

Dark passages and corridors,

with candles to show us the way

Through this light-less world of marauders and mischief

where we don’t know the touch of day.

Off their fear and conformity

We the Few grow putrid and fat;

what they’re really afraid of

is themselves, Because

Everybody Wants

to be a Rat.


Florida (don’t leave me here.)

please don’t go

to Florida

Where we can’t hang out every day.

It’s stupid and dumb

in Florida

and I don’t want you to go away.


High School (my brothers, my friends, and the glory days.)

Get up

Fuck up

7 am

You’re late

Get dressed

Get nervous

Get stressed

downstairs

mom yells

Lucas cries

says he tries

but he’s

been tellin lies

and She’ll deal with it

when we get home.

Hot tears

cheeks still stinging

wet

outside

Freezing air

burns lungs

Nic drives

Music on

but we have to wait,

Amir’s late, and

We can’t leave home

without him.

Pick up

Justin K

on the way,

Silent car ride,

Lucas

is afraid

7:40

we arrive

mean stares

teacher glares

Marco’s got

Gay long hair

Sleeps in class

doesn’t pass

any of his tests.

Where’s your homework

phone-call home,

FUCK

knots in stomach

swimming head

when mom gets home

I’m fucking dead.

11:00 cafeteria

Faggot

pussy

fucking gay-ass

bitch

Lunch tastes like

nervousness

Sit with friends

and chew the food,

watch the clock

hear what’s new

Then back to class

filled with dread

go tear up

and breath

in bathroom stalls

Walk the halls

for half an hour

talk with Chris

(he makes

me smile)

Then when finally

that last bell rings

over the evening

Announcements,

Walk around

In the town

with Lisa Fitz

for as long as I can

4 o’clock

then she sighs

We both realize

we’ve got to go back home

Mumble words

seeyadumarrow

And then the

parting ways.

In the back door

try to sneak

but mom is waiting

in the kitchen

oh no

Shit

Fuck

FUCK

out of luck

No friends

No going to

the Brehne’s party

Your life

is Over.

Run upstairs

text message

romance

long-distance

girlfriend on

the telephone

7:00

Dad is home

uncomfortable dinner,

Mimi cooked

(always seems to be

pea-soup and ham

on nights like tonight.)

Long shower

almost an hour

then go and sit

in Lucas’ room.

11:30 out the window,

Rooftop vigil

sit and think

and watch the cars roll by

Maybe cry

Those high-school days

sure were savage,

but when the weekend came,

and it was finally over,

we

Ruled the World.


Garden State (don’t cry, Marco.)

Somebody please

Take me back

to the Garden State,

cause it’s gettin

late And I really wanna

get outta this place.

cause Life’s so nice

when you got long hair

and you smile,

cause then nobody thinks

you’re sad

and you’re scared

or that you’re runnin away like a child.

They say, Hey

That Marco’s got it

all figured out,

he’s full with love

and fulla laughs.

he don’t get bothered

by the shit he sees,

he runs up and down

the West coast

makin friends

and huggin trees.

Then they say

O wouldn’t it be easier

If I could just be him?

then Marco can smile

for a little while

and say Boy

where do we begin?


lonely night (where is America?)

Hey America, it’s me again, and I’m not so sure if you can hear me. I’ve been giving you all I’ve got, Can I get a little something back? Cause I’m trying real hard to believe that the Dream is still alive but Holy shit is it getting hard to survive, America please, show me a sign, Because I’m standing here with shaking hands clinging to the promise of your brave free land, But here I am Barely holding on, What’s happening, America? Are you there, do you care, What happened to my dad in Vietnam? why did the mall just lay off my mom, What’s going on, America? Why am I working every day For 8 dollars an hour pay, why isn’t there good food to eat, and I’ve got friends who sleep on the street in Seattle America? Come on, America! Give me Something to believe in, because it’s getting so hard, Fuck! I got a brother who graduated college and works for ihop trying to pay off student debt (he wants to kill himself, and his friend already did) America, what happened in Iraq? When is Jenna going to get her leg back, America? Why won’t she smile like she used to do, America Show your face, where are you? America are you hiding behind the closed casinos in Atlantic City, are you in the thousand miles of Minnesota corn that once was prairie? America, I’m trying to be brave But it’s getting Harder every day, Because I’m afraid you aren’t there And I can’t keep looking forever, America, My world is falling apart, Where are you, America! The system isn’t working, We’re pushing titanic problems unresolved beneath the carpet, Oh my God America, the Nation that Rests on the blade of knife above an abyss of lies, the gun-drunk Bible-clutching gasoline-loving Consumption flooding Empire of greed, built on the weak and fueled by Methamphetamine, America, the pre-conceived The facade of success, The We’re the best, the Talking heads, America, The frontier of the West, the screams of New York City are the cries of those poor Apaches who never did make it back to New Mexico, America…come on and show me, just a glimpse is all I need, Because America, please trust me, I truly want to believe…


America (the Brave, the Few.)

The American dream is timber and steel, chugging south towards Texas on screeching wheels and Indian tears, tumble-weeds and oil-pipelines bleeding the Badland’s blood from worn and torn Cheyenne ranch-hands, cowboys in cafes wearin bolo-ties chewin hamburger-steaks beneath overcast Eastern-Oregon skies, and hunted vagabond kids with dirt-smudged cheeks sticking out thumbs in a desperate lunge To be someone chuh-duh chung da chungg chungg what has
America
become

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