Richard Prazych

When Her Kisses

by Richard M. Prazych

When her kisses taste like

Ten miles of gas station coffee

I LOVE HER

When her eyes are

Dark and heavy

I NEED HER

When her lips spill liquid words

That dance like the ocean

I WANT HER

When the walls are sweating

And the ceilings hold no boundaries

And her back is arched and aching

And her scent is on my fingers

And I am left with longing

I MISS HER

Consideration

by Richard M. Prazych

Dear Sir or Madam,

Please consider my resume for employment with your firm.

I am an independent worker

(As long as I can find someone to do my work)

I am highly motivated

(As long as I can nap after lunch)

I am always on time with little absence

(Usually with a hangover)

I am excellent at multi-tasking

(I can fuck up a lot of things at once)

I am respectful of cultural diversity

(I can tell anyone to kiss my bean bag)

I have excellent communication skills

(I’d be more than happy to tell my boss to eat shit)

I am a well-organized team player

(I will organize the time we meet at the bar)

Please allow me the opportunity to meet with you and discuss

The open position!

Thank you for your Fucking consideration!

Yours Truly!

The Apartment

by Richard M. Prazych

The windows have given up

They decided to jump ship

They won’t face another winter!

The couch has resigned itself to the fact

It would rather be back

In Spanish Harlem

The floors are creaking with anguish

Every step is one too many

Another season

We will all be lounging

In the furnace

The heat refuses to rear its head

Cold beyond belief

They have been begging me,

It’s time we should go!

This time I think

I shall listen

Holiday

by Richard M. Prazych

Upon returning from a stunning holiday

In a tropical paradise,

He assumed his place at his desk

Like some grotesque, doomed figure

From Dante’s Inferno

Back to the shuffle of papers

And names that would only change

Upon removal to another madhouse

Or the cemetery

A college education

Does have its perks!

A keg of beer,

A cold cut platter,

Well wishes and back slaps

And the hope you may one day

Rise above the mediocre world

Of a paper bag lunch existence!

The Parking Lot

by Richard M. Prazych

Friday found me

Spitting out the remains of the week

Mortality

Survival

Keeping sane

Auto repairs are needed again

I don’t even want the car

It smells horrible and I would rather walk

But I’m sitting in the parking lot

Of a strip club

On a roasting night

The neon signs are very warm

I hear rock and roll

And it’s full of very friendly

Brazilian women

Sometimes,

Strippers, drinking, and

The Rolling Stones are more important

Than a muffler

Carnival

by Richard M. Prazych

Ghostly pale

Little children are laughing

Under the sickening carnival lights

The engine of the band

Thundered into gear

Out of the hidden corners

They wobbled

Some ridged

Some mute

Some helplessly unaware

A boy with blue lips

Whispered to me

It’s the widow’s weeds Dance.

Hateful Kind of Rain

by Richard M. Prazych

When you see the sign

Dead people’s things for sale

You will know, you’re almost there.

When you feel you got no home

You’ll know what it’s like

To truly be alone.

When the drops that hit the window

Don’t feel like anything but pain

You will know, it’s a hateful kind of rain.

Richard Prazych, musician, poet, artist, and author, hails from Bayonne, NJ, and has been active in the Arts community for several years. A graduate of the Art Institute of Philadelphia, Richard continues to perform as a solo artist as well as with is current band, The Psychic Wigs. He is presently recording a new album while eagerly awaiting the publishing of his first book of poetry, Life Without Tranquilizers.