GREG WILDER - POEMS

Greg Wilder (also known by the stage name Slay! the Dragon) is an award-winning writer, full-time student, and spoken word performer, currently residing in Schenectady, N.Y. After a long, downhill battle with alcohol and drug addiction, Greg entered treatment in June of 2017 and rediscovered the therapeutic potential of art and writing. Today, with over 3 years clean, Greg shares the healing power of poetry with other recovering addicts as an intern for a drug and alcohol treatment center. Greg studies Human Services and English at SUNY Schenectady.

 “If That Plane Leaves the Ground and You’re Not with Him, You’ll Regret It…”
(or: “We’ll Always Have Hampton Manor”)
​

I believe some remnants
   Of My Heart still remain –
On the underside of the Garbage Disposal
   Into which it was poured,
From that Blender on the Kitchen Counter
   Of some Girl's house back in
      East Greenbush.
 
My Soul, is on a piece of paper –
   Probably still in some drawer
      Or a Shoebox –
After selling it to a Friend
   Sometime back in 2004 –
      For a Beef Patty
         And a Cigarette.
 
My Life that I sacrificed
   To Heroin –
Pierced through the Flesh –
   Crucified on a Cross of
Diabetic Insulin Needles –
   3rd Day Naloxone Resurrection.
 
But what none of them actually knows,
   Is they only accepted the fakes –
The real ones I hide,
   Here in my mind,
      Where nobody ever can take.
 
Still Point Retreat Center
August 25, 2018
​

Killer Frost
​

​She is Sweet Melody
   Of both Fire and Ice.
Diving deep into the Glacial Pools of those cool
   Blue Eyes that Chill me to the bone.
Beauty that hits me like Arctic Air
   Traveling on Western Winds.
12,799 Miles of Lonely Earth rolling between us.
At times, I can feel your pain, from a country away.
Raging Wild Winter Fire,
   California Girl – My Khaleesi –
      I, am the Dragon. And you, are my Princess.
Moon of my Life – My Sun and Stars.
   The Universe displayed its aptitude for Art,
      On the night, it drew the two of us together.
Schenectady
November 9, 2017
 

My Nature
​

“I'm not used to being in Nature”
   Is what comes to mind as I stand here at Still Point
   Staring up into space – Feeling somewhat out of place.
I'm not used to being in Nature –
I'm not used to such sounds of silence.
   Not even in my own mind.
I'm used to 3 AM neighbor screaming matches,
Screeching tires, and Fire and Rescue sirens –
   I'm not used to this.
You see, I'm not used to being in Nature –
   The only R and R I get is Rehab and Running
   From Bus Stop to Bus Stop, From Classes to Court.
   The fear of prison system Recidivism Rates.
   May I not be another Statistic.
Because Nature for me isn't spiritually serene –
   It's Wine and Spirits stores on every street,
   The Homeless and Hustlers on every corner.
My Nature isn't Campfires and S'mores or Sleeping Bags and Tents –
   My Nature is Dopesick and Poor and Sleeping on a Bench,
   Or Slumlord random stop-bys since you’re still late on the rent.
My Nature is Back Alley littered with broken furniture and mattresses.
   Garbage Bag Tumbleweeds blowing in the breeze.
My Nature is big dogs barking behind fences at everyone that passes,
   Squirrels tearing through all the trashes, and of course
   The Raccoon in the Backyard who ran up on our porch
   For a pack of Newports and snatched it…
   I can't make this kinda shit up by the way,
   Cause that ACTUALLY HAPPENED!
My Nature isn't Row Boats, Fishing, Rope Swings and Swimming Holes –
My Nature is the polluted pond in a lower class Suburban Neighborhood
   That hasn't been safe to swim in since I was six.
My Nature is a Wilderness of Concrete, Steel,
And Red Brick Low Income Housing Developments –
   The unknown, which lies in the Jungle
   Of the abandoned building’s lawn next door,
   That hasn’t been mowed in 5 months.
My Nature is crowded Cell Block Summer Camp –
   I'll be locked in at 10 o’clock in “Cabin #206.”
So as I look around at the forests and farms – I'm not used to all of this…
I'm not used to being in Nature – In case I haven't made that clear,
I'm not used to being in Nature. But I guess it's better than being here...
 
 Hudson Mohawk Supportive Living
August 27, 2018
​

​“Felt cute... Might cut my ear off later and give it to a prostitute... Idk”
 (or: Van Gough’s Ear)
 

Portrait painted in the glow of antique mirrors -
I took a selfie today.
But instead of a point and click and switch of light filters -
Mine took hours to master.
And unlike the 15 worthless ones you've Snapped today -
One day mine will sell for Millions!
 
“Le fou roux”
        I am manic and depressive!
“Serpent! Lion noir!”
        I've been betrayed and abandoned!
“Sain d'esprit,
Saint Esprit.”
      I am St. Peter slicing the appendage,
      An Apostle with a rusty razor,
      A Prophet with a paintbrush…
“ICTUS! ICTUS!”
      The act of a Maniac.
 
I stagger down to the Rue du Bout D'Arles -
Knock on the door of the brothel,
And request my Rachel,
To give her something to remember me by...
She faints at the sight of my glorious package.
Then it's back to the old Maison Jaun - After another job well done...
To get drunk and pass out in a pool of blood.
 
Schenectady
May 9, 2019
 
 

Entitlement Poem
(Those Middle-Class Millennial Winter Mondays)
​

​Mondays too I rise extra late
In warm comfort of HVAC, two-story, dual income household--
American Dream lived off the sweat of parent’s salaried positions.
Father is already gone – Off to monotonous grind of office job. His boss,
Nor I ever thank him. We only ask for more.
 
I’ve never known what it’s like to shovel snow from neighbor’s driveways
For a quick 10 bucks to buy action figures or candy. Or having to ration Ramen
Through the week. Bagel Bites and free Wi-Fi. Screaming for Socialism
From Social Media platform. Bernie says “Vote for me”,
Get your money for nothing and your checks for free!
Unaware they even used to play music on MTV – Video star killed by Mp3.
Ignorant of the chronic passive aggressiveness of this house.
 
Callused thumbs from long X-Box Live afternoons.
What do I know, what do I know
Of perpetual 5 PM traffic jam existence?
 
Schenectady
March 18, 2020