Submitted by Tami Swift on Fri, 07/15/2016 - 20:36
this is a letter to my BF....I find myself immersed in the future yet memories take me back to a place in time I can never forget. I can still feel the grass beneath my feet and the downward and upward slope of the earth as i run, running from the start and not allowing myself to finish until I pass our rock where the riverwalk ends and the slope begins and the heartrock stations itself at the end. I stop and breathe and collapse with my arms draped over my knees where I can finally allow myself to grieve...and it all flows out, my wrenching sobs and heaving chest allow my soul to escape, and then as it began it stops, I suck air in my lungs and take hold of my surroundings. With renewed determination, I stand and shake it off, with head held high I walk to the river's edge. Carefully I climb to the place I am called, to where the water rushes over the shute and the pool swells, beyond that , where the water rides, I lay myself, naked in the stream, under the low bobbing branches that tickle my arm and no one can see. I duck my head, and drown out the world, raising a triumphant smile to greet the warmth of the sun and climb out to dry on the smooth surface of the rock. I gather my clothes and slowly put on my armor...my brave face to confront my life, my demons, my regrets! I am renewed! I climb back up the embankment, to rise up to the arena...I run again, pacing as I go, so as to reach my car without stopping. The startled geese cackle as I go by, the backyard dog barking finally dies off and with finality..my heart attests! To the love of my life I will never forget.
The song 'Big Truck' played like an old stereo cassette in my brain when the news narrator stated that someone ran over 70 people in France.
Weed has been walking my system like a Samaritan minister through beautiful shrubs and washes, the greenery veins.
I put the car on the street with the little gas I have to come check my emails and craft the ideas for "Yeshua is away in Paradise eve, call back tomorrow."
The big 4th. My mother has asked me to read a book written recently by Joel Osteen because she's been in and our of the hospital and she feels he's the sun's smile. He's written over 10. I'm behind.
There are two guys that hang out in front of the library's sliding doors in those familiar white suit shirts and 2 blocks on the sides of pen holders.
Coal Chamber most likely isn't serenading they're inner ears but it doesn't matter.
They're some clowns selling a way of life.
This man's book is a balloon and his friend sits there silently and politely stares at my clothes.
God never liked what's being held in between his fingers and thumb no matter how many years have passed but God don't like the rituals I've been preforming on my neck and the baneful revenge magic shit that's coming to my boss like that truck that came roaring down the highway.
I pulled out my 1911 and stuck it in his gut:
"How does a man get from the Creator from a top hat? That's my struggle."
A couple tears from his left eye dripped down his face.
"I don't know... I honestly don't. We're Christians!"
I am marvelous, Joel said i'm phenomenal, awe-inspiring, equipped with St. Michael's armor, my spirit is unheard of.
The bullet exited the back of this missionary's spine and exploded
the pokemon center sign placed next to the blood donor signs and the wounded warrior poster.
An ignited effigy
birthed from the pride humans own like past trophies
they've peered beyond the threshold of pale trees
in the mist of melancholy.
in the dirt below the shouting stems
from which evil will see once dead and permanently bent to the side
You are the one that guides the path of your own personal punishment.
Inside the four seasons of the scythe
inside the misery of the molten pit
the eternal point in the mass
Evil and all it's poisonous gifts
this is what follows all who live in the flesh.
In a bipolar duality state of mind
drowning or about to be impaled your freshness of soma will give no remorse
The grim reaper goes for the children of wrath, not the good heart people that plagues
It's of your own desire for infinite damnation.
How many times have I said
I’m through teasing myself,
I don’t enjoy
the wreath of a woman
warm around me.
How many times have I said
I’ll go out on the streets,
as I have in the past,
in cummerbund and sash,
top hat and cane,
a one-man parade
with bugle and drum,
seeking the sweetbreads
served there all day,
fresh off the brazier,
My mother came over in the late afternoon
to get away from my father in his yelling anger,
it was tax season and I was reading in my room on my
The life Jack Kerouac lived for 7 years gave me such a push
to go outside and see the world, the familiar feeling
I felt two years before.
"You want to drive to Brooklyn to meet who?" Mom asked.
"Mac Demarco. The guy I saw at the realito."
her and my brother we're watching a program about this place called
where land is like international waters on the boarder of California and Arizona.
I got fired from costco & lowes on my birthday and the woman who spent it with me shot me a text saying
"I can't see a future together."
While I stood in the prize line at dave & busters in Tempe.
What do I got to lose?
Make a sign that states an exchange of money for my poetry or encouraging bible verses to pay for gas and food.
Cody can watch Pretzels until I get back.
"No Sean! Just get a job!" Mother yelled after my miles of explanations.
Instead of leaving and writing a novel about it
I picked up printer paper and wrote about what it would be like.
I ended up meeting my girlfriend and walking down to the game store instead.
The stench came first,
the young man remembers.
It was as if someone had
grabbed him by the ankles,
turned him upside down
and dunked him in a latrine.
Not good, he says.
Then all the hissing
and the forked tongues
only he could see,
flickering as if vipers were
slithering around him.
A nurse told him
he was out of it for days,
yelling and cursing
jumping out of bed
It took three orderlies
to hold him down.
All he remembers is
the stench and hissing.
When he came out of it
he thanked a priest
his parents had called
when doctors said they
could only sedate him.
The priest came back
the next day and asked
if he wanted to pray.
He told the priest
he didn't believe in God
never mind Satan.
The young man said
the problem was a guy
had sold him bad stuff.
Simple as that.
But if it happens again,
he hoped the priest
would come back,
light his candles
and work his magic.
He’d appreciate the help.