Categories > Original > Poetry1 Reviews
Deal has a funny ring to it.
the baby cried, “let me out, momma---i'm dying inside!”
at the seaside, on a hilltop
the child cried, “let me hurt, momma---i've cut my thigh!”
by the park, in an old church
the teen cried, “let me go, momma---i can't stand to what you lie!”
full pouted, short shouted
the teen sighed, “momma---i want to die.”
from an ocean view, fused with broken hero boasts, cackling with speech of idiots. it was a blinded shot, a stupid graze; he shouldn't have touched that stereo.
buzzards fall in sync, marionettes guide the chorus line; did you hear about mr. valentine? crucial pawns, silly little players, that'll go out in a medal-less haze.
sore voice, tired eyes
the child sighed, "i'm older, momma, but not wise"
he continued, counting the string on his fingers
"see, i made this game,"
one string over, two strings back.
"i promised they wouldn't mame,"
the child dropped coat, laid down on vomit stained grass
"but they did. and i told so many lies."
falling without a frown; how come heaven seemed so much closer from the ground?
"i could count on you not to try, couldn't i?"
laughter crinkled the silence, bright cool leaves fell
"it was you who gave me this ocean fake..."
a stutter slung loosely from his tongue, like it was the only thing that belonged.
"..ocean fa-fake heart."
he'd pass up the chance for one last dance, simply because his skeleton had fallen too deep.
"i could've let it go."
so far down, call of the thunder, clap of the scream
"thorazine, prozac, all such fucking drama queens,"
black orchestras play loudly, disturbing the serenity, the calmness that comes with talking to a carcass.
"i could try, couldn't i? yeah. i think i will..."
the little pills, little capsules contained in armies of orange, sing song me to war, they go nighty night night!