…so
softly dying, infused by winds, proven
a dying gladiator: our reach slipping, at sore disjunction, and omitting
laughter: our core curse, our silky flesh, our wounded pride: as souls
languishing, or repeating habits, where promise becomes something aloof: our dangerous spirits, at churning gears, from swing
to slides to grass: our sandcastles, our coated beliefs, while some are
pointing North: this man to phones, those interior lagoons, while so low
conversing with algae: as trying by silence, but something is itching, and Lord Knows!: this tried soul, our
warrior battles, ashamed to admit a lack of answers: listening to cogent, but
simplistic, solutions: wondering about humans, to imagine our functionality,
realizing mercy comes through habits: our deaf lands, this deaf political, our
sold America: at Africa stately, but torn by Africa, at tyranny this
pigmentation: so thrown by literature, so awake at signposts, so aloof to
reality: but thrown, therein, attempting this punishment, where, otherwise, it
appears too chaotic: those sullen, apathetic, even cruel thoughts: our contours
distinguished, our anger lashing out, our bodies feeling alienated: while life
is on timer, where winds are
shifting, so perfectly abused: hereinto, this puddle of passion, this abstract
creature, this variance in reality: sold to irrationality, sold to distress
happiness, while a moment seemed so intoxicating: our daily giggles, followed
by rain, seated upon rugs—those acidic whistles, this acidic island, gripping
for tugging at air: our filthy knees, our relatable prayers, so infused, so
drained, shooting reminder notes…. …so
softly mourning, at deaths with existence, to realize our decaying reality: those
few at guts, those ruined light-bulbs, or some so intense it becomes
intimidating: this old warrior, so captured by peace, so misused and so
worried: (I ponder at times, this lake of insecurities, this human dilemma,
this spiritual predicament: at volunteer silence, or displeased with church, or
painting this high-rise experiential dimension: so cured, so cursed, so
haunted): our rabid sensations, our burning realities, seated at some park
feeding selfish pigeons: those curious squirrels, this trapped existence, so
simple, so chaotic, so Nature: this
field of pirates, this sea of beasts, this land or misinterpretations: such war
to love, such abuse to die, while Love aches, listening to silent winds….
…it happened to me, this variance in humanity, this casual, mentally
detrimental, even abdominal horror: so sick with life, so angry at life, while
chasing multiple women: that wrong decision, choosing Europe over Africa, while
intangible, mental forces, wreaked havoc upon existence: this losing voice,
this winning terror, at living love—to live for insistence, this morning’s
ritual, so sluggish, so hopeful, so torn to exist: this sad address, this Cajun
soul, so alarmed by actualities: at cornered angles, at torn sensations, eye to
brain alive something Egyptian: sensing ruins fevered, or tyranny unexplained,
while damaged for despised by humans: this lone source, this miracle
acceptance, while home is filled with secrets: so watery flame, as rescued for
seconds, so sick about private communion: to seek Christ, livid a nightmare,
this filthy, uncivilized, even condemnable spirit…. …so many weeks, counting and laughing,
while alienated from that experience: this problem with time, this calendar
giggling, or sentenced never a sight—those bars, this alley, this tickling
tightrope: to search internally, to hear a softer whisper, to meditate eight
hours a day: to recapture soul, to council something intransigent, or to tackle
something reprobate: this recalcitrant mentality, this based existence, this
core needing God’s Reality: this sure language, this sure delusion, while
rereading biblic texts: so often at scripture, so often at purgatory, so cursed
forcing God’s Hand: (I must confess: I give a rat’s life, whether God is
female, male, or asexual: this foolish battle, where experience is sensation,
where a fire hits sudden upon a second: this revving course, those
neurotransmitters, this sight for doubts: but knowing pain, and knowing hope,
why deprive a person of their strength)…!
