Wings

a poem from my book Luck`s a Liar; Iceman Tribute.

Kid me chased wings,
metal beasts clawing the sky,
cockpit gods with slick hair and sneers.
Dreams are cheap ink...fade fast.

Years don’t climb, they crush.
Saw a snapshot, some young punk,
eyes like he’d dodge the reaper forever.
He didn’t. Ground took him.
Heart didn’t break.
Just spat blood, sick of the world’s bad math.

Threw a curse at the sky,
called it a prayer,
knew it’d bounce off the void.
Life’s a drunk at the end of the bar...
slobbering facts, then choking on the bill.

No redo. No applause.
Stool’s kicked,
beer’s a stain,
laughter’s a dead echo,
joy’s a hustler’s wink.
Door slams.
One way.

April 1st, 2025. Rest In Peace, Iceman.