Curse of the Poet and Other Stuff

If you don't like this poem....you should pass this collection by.Doors of AddictionWhen DeLorean was arrestedI spent the weekend at the homeof a drug dealer: snorting coke, watching the newsand waiting for the door to be kicked in.On Sunday, something kept knocking against my hollow soulthe way rocks clang off an empty, metal barrel.Echoing, I drank more beer.Later, kneeling before a shifting toilet,I asked Almighty God to let me live just that day.My face burned and the veins of my neck ached from the strainCovered with sweat, I was afraidbut could soon forget that God had listened.Sometimes then, I would see myself from across the roomand wonder if anyone elsethought I looked like a talking dead bodywaiting for God to kick the door in Boyd has experienced many unusual things. He grew up in a very large and turbulent family. His mom went blind when he was a child. His father was a battered war veteran who worked as a drill instructor in the Marines--running his family like a boot camp.at times. Having learned to cook for his family, Boyd grew up to manage restaurants. But, then went down a path of drug abuse and addiction. Finally, after turning to God for help, he overcame drug addiction and joined a Catholic monastery for 5 years. Later he left the Benedictines and got a job in a shipyard. He married a political refugee from Mexico City, is raising 3 children.His most popular books are Primal Ethics, The Curse of the Poet and Popular Misreads of Reality.He can be reached for comment at ferd453@aol.com.