poem by Mark Tulin
— www.bewilderingstories.com/issue923/neighbor_garvey.html
A big shoutout to Bewildering Stories for publishing the narrative poem.
Photo by Steven Weeks on Unsplash.com
My Neighbor, Garvey
by Mark Tulin
When Garvey blew his mind,
inhaling a bag of glue,
he stumbled in the driveway
not knowing where he was going.
I spied on him through my back window,
watched the sun glisten off his stoned,
bugged-out eyes.
He was tripping
in a cornucopia of colors,
a purple haze, a Jimi Hendrix guitar riff
of endless chord progressions.
But when he was mellow,
came down from his high,
he played the guitar
like George Harrison,
so sweetly it made you cry.
Garvey went to California in a VW van,
took his Martin acoustic,
a pound of hand-rubbed hash,
but left his girlfriend behind.
Two years later, he came home
but with a new addiction.
He threw needle darts into his arm,
with his drug of choice: heroin.
He made no sense after that.
Said he drank a can of toxic rain,
hung out with a bunch of demons,
tripping on magic mushrooms,
and said the universe
sways back and forth like a lava lamp.
Garvey was my childhood hero,
but he died at thirty-seven,
heroin to methamphetamine,
transcendence to six feet under.
Garvey blew his head off with a shotgun
in Big Sur under the stars,
a free-spirited soul, a hallucinating voyeur,
who just wanted to be happy.
This is a tough one. There are people like Garvey although I have not known any personally. This is a sad but true story in your poem.
Thank you, Anne.
I used to blame people like Garvey for their fate, until someone pointed out how illogical I was being. If it is their fate, they, by definition, did not choose it. They are not responsible for something that was always going to happen to them.
Nice comment, Paul. We should always be sure of our definitions and have a dictionary handy. 👍👍👍
This is sad, but yet beautifully told.
Garveys come in all shapes and sizes and with varying habits. Tormented souls always trying to fit or perhaps to stand out.
Sending blessings and prayers to them, and to you a blessed weekend! ❤❤
Thank you!!🙂
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
Such a tragic story, respectfully told.
Thank you, Liz
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A perfect poem for my friend Pat. RIP