I thought there was something strange going on when I noticed my glass pulling, what most refer to as, a “Jurassic Park.” My first instinct was to make a joke relating the situation to horse shit, like you do, but then the panic set in. It could have been a rhino. It could have been my imagination, but we know better than that. It was an explosion— a series of them. Shrapnel came flying through the open window and sprinkled my face and lap. “What the holy fuck!” I shouted at the height of my new-found sense of humor.
I fell to the floor. Well I plummeted really but I was alone so no one was there to laugh. I’m not really sure who would laugh at a time like this, a time when bullets are screaming through the window. Then there was laughter in the doorway.
"What are you laughing for?" I shouted at the intruder. "Can’t you tell there’s a war going on?"
His laughter subdued, “What’s your name?” he asked me.
"I don’t know," I replied, "I don’t think he’s thought that far ahead."
"Who hasn’t thought that far ahead? God?"
The shots ceased their fire. “Yeah something like that I guess.”
"Your God is about as helpful as a twenty-something on a computer in California."
I paused for a second, not on purpose, but because I needed to think about that for a second. Another shot echoed through the window. “Better than nothing, don’t you think?”
"I’m not really a fan of meta." He motioned outside, "You should get out of the building before they start with the mortar rounds." And with that the stranger was shot in the head, in that special place that explodes. He was laughing when it happened and it made me think of Mexican food. Maybe dinner was ready, elsewhere, in a cozy 3 bedroom house where the air conditioning was on.
It’s all true, honestly. And then the world evaporated and I returned unto where I once came, eagerly anticipating the start of tonight’s selected family time movie.
like you want when the dark is out
and the coolness isn’t as
as you wished it to be,
with pursed lips and eyes
blue-bleeched through stinted
lashes, feathery bow strings that sing
as they petal the air
I pick one up with a poke
a delicate one
(reminding me of you)
and I cast a hush over its slender
with a dance forward and lofty
Dusty in the night like my coos
out the window to you
towards you like when I try to sleep
and I dream with my toes stretched
so I might not tatter the water
and violent when I disturb its borders
I must speak of you
and the purpose of my journey
before the harmony gives way to respect
and other such principals
I weep at, the opportunity
to bleed for those causes
to give birth myself, to beauty
and not in a way
too “Et tu, Brute?”
Maybe a story will emerge
maybe the trust will be there
not like this judgment
thrust upon us
from the breath of our loved ones
So dismantled in the morning
are they, from the get
that they would thunder your shoals
and boil you alive
because you were so brave as to be bare
To be alive, and to live with it
That is a statement
(or a condition)
and I will try dying for!
(or the other way around)
Whichever works given the wondrous occasion
that I might fill this world
with luscious carbon-monoxide
Bypass to balance, double time
even the scales of a figurine
objected before it finishes
its speech. Not
human, and a pause
for effect. It could be the sky tonight.
It could very well be
that my love for warm blankets
cocoons me deeply, nuzzled!
It steeps away
wanders from your reach,
de stijl-ed (where are my sisters?)
up from the underneath
where breath is chilled and the cars park
above. Hello there friend!
We are down like a frosted cavern
crystallized with ravonous jewels
ripped from skulls crudely
like my eyes (crudely still)
that rest upon misty sights
plaqued with infestation
aglaze in the sun, to shrivel
How does one whither and not die?
By bottle of memory, cryptic
burial! leave me bones
protruding out, yeah
to the bloated blue
that hangs overhead
like my feet familiar
in the way they sway.
I knock at them like wood
You better fucking believe they’re hollow
as I wander far from you,
Pancakes are easy when elsewhere, people are dying.
On the daily, news, profiteering and excuses from a public
docile and open-minded en mass obliteration
No worry. They have nothing
to hide. Not like the upper echelon cloaked in green
auras that terrify our children like darkest matter.
The only things in a 5 year old’s closet
are the skeletons of their parents
after a good row and some pathetic make-up sex
because they told themselves
-their kid, nothing
happened. They speak of no problems so they can
fuck freely. It is the only freedom
they’ll know in their life
since their parents did the same things to them
Makes for a martyrdom of tiny-feets
connected to little-toe that tip the streets
because they have no sidewalks, they all-ended
and swallowed-up the adolescents suffering absenteeism.
Tell them to “Just say no.”
Tell them to be quiet and to sit still
and to take tests
and not to cry
That asking questions is evil!
and display them in make-up and demonstrate identity via
Because advertisements are harmless
and their food is a cocktail
just like their pre-pubescent bodies
of hormones and neglect. So long as they’re fed,
that’s good enough—
They’re better off as a broken body
caged inside a nuclear facade
tagged with the welfare-dollar sign
(What a blow, what a disaster to the Americans
should a child be cared for others who would love them
like they love each other)
In this same world where the only love that lasts
is greedy. Everything, everyone else
is politically evil, and potentially everywhere
so long as it doesn’t generate a profit— like pain powered
bodily batteries stuffed into Glad-bags
(think processed-sausage in shotgun casings)
Then you need to shut the fuck up and just accept
Tell yourself to say nothing, and not to ask questions
otherwise they’ll pump your guts full-of-fodder
that tastes a lot like breakfast.
The one you never eat.