You came without welcome,
wheeling and dealing and
filling me with yourself.
You strung me out and up
and all over the place,
but there’s no place for you now,
so get out,
doubt.
Author Archives: thenspeaksthesoul
Bones
Why don’t you scream
just one more time.
Maybe I can feel it
just a little more.
Maybe down to my soul,
instead of just my bones.
Self
I sort of told myself today, "Self, you're gonna be okay." "Self," I says right to myself, "Be brave, be braver than yourself."
Mottled
They do not want the truth.
They want their things to be
prim and proper,
poised and perfect.
They do not want things as they are.
They do not want them
in the mottled gray they come in.
They want to see them shine –
in color; bright and brilliant and beautiful.
Feel.
You made me feel small,
and so I became tiny.
You made me feel brave,
and so I became courageous.
You made me feel hopeful,
and so I became an optimist.
You made me feel angry,
and so I became hateful.
You made me feel big,
and so I became fierce.
You made me feel alive,
and so I became passionate.
You made me feel,
and so I became.
Stairway of the Macabre
Quick, let’s build a wall.
Make it a hundred feet high;
better yet, make it two.
Take away their shovels
and ladders and ropes
and while we’re at it,
take what’s left of their
dignity and humanity.
Maybe we can tax the
ever lovin’ shit out of them
while were at it.
Just savages, don’t you know
that’s what they are?
If you put a door,
you better bar it.
Don’t let them out.
Don’t let them in.
They might taint our
hypocrisy with truth.
Guard it with your life,
sacrifice yours so that
they can’t have a better one.
Cover your legalities with
words like boundaries,
so it’ll be easier to ignore
the screams when the cartel comes.
We took away their shovels,
but maybe they can pile the bodies
like a stairway of the macabre.
maybe if enough people die.
A Diner Sits Two Places Down From A Red Light
In case anyone is interested, I self-published a chapbook on Amazon. It’s free for the next four days (including today). It’s not perfect, but it’s the first one I ever did so I’m okay with that. I’ll post the link below. It’s for kindle, but you can read it using several different apps.
smoke trails.
There’s something about the way
a cigarette lights up the dark,
and the smoke trails away,
just drifts away into the night.
You know it’ll kill you,
All the way from that first moment.
The first time you put it to your lips,
and inhale. Inhale. Inhale. Die a little.
Nicotine in your bloodstream,
kind of like a good dream.
Tar in your lungs,
drowning never felt this good.
Red in a black night,
a whisper only you can hear.
It owns you like you’ve never
been owned before.
It’s bondage of the soul;
pleasure they’ll never understand,
exploration of the dark side.
Forty years from now,
Hell, forty minutes from now,
you’ll still be a slave.
And it won’t feel so good
In the long run, probably.
When the emphysema kicks in,
and the cancer comes,
but my God, it was good.
You never looked so cool,
you never felt so calm.
Never felt so much like you
would maybe explode right
out of your skin if you didn’t get
just one more damn drag.
Tricks and trips and bullshit,
just to get you to take a whiff,
It might kill you, but
it’s still a beautiful thing,
watching those cigarillos
swirl and whirl and fade
away into the dead of night.
consequences.
She goes through the yellow light,
because she’s running two miles
two late on a bad hair day.
He doesn’t make it through,
brakes slam and there goes
his morning coffee; maybe he
should pull over to the shoulder.
He doesn’t. Swerves. Wipes. Drives.
He’s behind a car that swerves
across the yellow line. Once. Twice.
Safe driver, good driver,
four-second rule.
Another stop light, extra space.
Green light, green light go.
Coffee guy hesitates, then goes.
Extra safe, have a good day guy follows.
Young driver right behind,
second day with a license,
doesn’t it feel so good to be young?
Oh, but little one, look.
Please, don’t forget to look.
Here come’s a bad day in an
everyday, average car,
you’ll never remember;
right through a red light,
but there’s brake lights,
too late brake lights.
Twisted metal, twisted steel.
Just a bloody mess.
Too young to be gone,
but gone just the same.
An unintended consequence
of someone else’s bad day.
bitter apples.
The things they say will heal you,
sometimes they only kill you.
They’ll give you a rainbow dream,
with letters and numbers and
secret meanings.
They’ll take everything you own,
just so you can keep on keeping on.
No, no. Don’t let them take you.
Don’t go willingly into their dark night.
You are more than their
bottom, bottom line.
You should have more time;
don’t let them take that from you.
It’s degree versus autonomy,
in a battle to the death.
Be free, sweet soul, be free
Don’t eat the fruit from bitter apples.
