They had a memorial for my old friend, Dr. Cyd, Friday night in Boulder. He had a problem with drinking, was 67, lived in a trailer park in Boulder, and had "health problems". He went outside to have a cigarette, passed out, and froze to death.
I knew Cyd for 30 years. He always made me at ease, and happy.

His passion was making sculpture out of found objects. Boulder has some very chunky trash. I actually knew at least 4 people that made a living picking trash out of dumpsters and selling it at yard sales. Cyd "dumpstered" for stuff to make beautiful things out of. I LOVED his work.

I wrote this poem on Thursday, and later came home to a charming acCYDent. The poem was laying on my computer keyboard. I was hanging out with a friend getting stoned when I spill my Corona directly onto the my computer keyboard. I quick snatched the bottle and set it down, AGAIN it fell pouring beer all over my computer. 
So I quick unplug the thing, and held it upside down wondering what to do. I grabbed a towel and flipped the computer over to wipe off what was on the surface, only to realize there was no spill on the keyboard, only the computer body. Cyd's poem, laying across my keyboard, saved it. I was so grateful.

Later I found it charming that his poem drank up the beer, leaving stained, a sort of trashed art.

For that reason I call this poem BEER BATTERED.
...................................................................................
BEER BATTERED
The Good Doctor Cyd
dead and gone
Great timing
get out of the theater 
before the shit show begins
Who am I kidding?
the good soul who saw beauty in trash
maybe he ducked out to get a quick incarnation
and get back when the piles are everywhere
Walmart meets Syria
right about when people are tired of the wars
the hate
the violence
right about when the world is ready to exhale
and start over
In a wind of inspiration
you will be there 
a gleaming eyed teenager
whistling a tune
When The Saints Come Marchin
Making masterpieces
for the healing, Good Doctor
for the healing
#typewriterpoetry #poemswhileyouwait #poetrycommunity #thepoemlife #poetryondemand #poetsofinstagram #poetry #poetsofig
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  • the_poem_guyThey had a memorial for my old friend, Dr. Cyd, Friday night in Boulder. He had a problem with drinking, was 67, lived in a trailer park in Boulder, and had "health problems". He went outside to have a cigarette, passed out, and froze to death.
    I knew Cyd for 30 years. He always made me at ease, and happy.

    His passion was making sculpture out of found objects. Boulder has some very chunky trash. I actually knew at least 4 people that made a living picking trash out of dumpsters and selling it at yard sales. Cyd "dumpstered" for stuff to make beautiful things out of. I LOVED his work.

    I wrote this poem on Thursday, and later came home to a charming acCYDent. The poem was laying on my computer keyboard. I was hanging out with a friend getting stoned when I spill my Corona directly onto the my computer keyboard. I quick snatched the bottle and set it down, AGAIN it fell pouring beer all over my computer.
    So I quick unplug the thing, and held it upside down wondering what to do. I grabbed a towel and flipped the computer over to wipe off what was on the surface, only to realize there was no spill on the keyboard, only the computer body. Cyd's poem, laying across my keyboard, saved it. I was so grateful.

    Later I found it charming that his poem drank up the beer, leaving stained, a sort of trashed art.

    For that reason I call this poem BEER BATTERED.
    ...................................................................................
    BEER BATTERED
    The Good Doctor Cyd
    dead and gone
    Great timing
    get out of the theater
    before the shit show begins
    Who am I kidding?
    the good soul who saw beauty in trash
    maybe he ducked out to get a quick incarnation
    and get back when the piles are everywhere
    Walmart meets Syria
    right about when people are tired of the wars
    the hate
    the violence
    right about when the world is ready to exhale
    and start over
    In a wind of inspiration
    you will be there
    a gleaming eyed teenager
    whistling a tune
    When The Saints Come Marchin
    Making masterpieces
    for the healing, Good Doctor
    for the healing
    #typewriterpoetry #poemswhileyouwait #poetrycommunity #thepoemlife #poetryondemand #poetsofinstagram #poetry #poetsofig

  • stevewh0Beautiful poem bill, sorry about your buddy..
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