Sunday, June 12, 2011

Love & War

There is a red mark on the back of the widow
in a translucent web that hangs
broken glass of rosy spectacles
sand in the lovers eyes

sweating in a tight under shirt
this room filled with defeat
the vacancy of light haunts me
lays dead roses at my feet …

Heebie-jeebies on the rocks
served chilled with a graveyard back
tailor made missions into the vast aura of placid tone
tangled misanthropes weeping in razor blade clouds
last call is a matter of contorted time in the Houdini smoke of lost hope
I am all left feet upon a dance floor on fire
a carnivorous ghost town
hungry for the souls of the lost, the lonely, the weary …

Garbage lines
garbage lies
trash can halos
love in a pail
hot stink of forever
tied knot
epicurean landfill
the sun setting.

I laid awake all night
as the machine gun fire
raged under the midnight trapeze act
of humanity failing
I laughed out loud
exhaling smoke from my mouth
as the walls shook
and all the hands on the clock stood still
then there was a silence
as thin as a ghost
taller then a star not visible for another five years
and the Sgt Major
motioned to me
through the blood dripping my window
he seemed frantic
clutching at his throat
trails and traces
screams and dead thuds …

“Grunt! Pop the top and roll that grenade out the door! No time to think!
Those lousy towel heads will slit our bellies and stitch us up with C4 faster then you can fart a flat note …”

I opened the beer
and poured it down my throat
the snake was at my feet
her dog eared picture in my hand
as the enemy burst in
I had just enough time
to roll off the mattress
as a three round burst tore through the sheets

I grabbed the dull machete and hurled it
the void
more gun fire
smoke and flash
I saw her again
as the Arabic tongues chanted defiantly
more explosion
and, for a brief, fleeting moment
I was faraway
in her arms
smiling in her embrace
butterfly kisses and soft things that we spoke to each other
that the world would never hear again …

then, suddenly
I felt a hand grind into my shoulder and start to drag,

“Your hit grunt! Lossing blood! Don’t worry … no man has ever been left behind on my patrol. Hold the fuck on, I am going to …”

I heard the bullet slice through the air
and I saw the Sgt Major drop like a bag of rotten potatoes
the delicate symphony of bone and brain matter
taking flight in the gun smoke sky.

“Shit!”, I screamed, as I reached for another cigarette and closed my eyes.

I didn’t take them long
they drug my bullet riddled corpse
out of there by the ankles
no more life
no more tears
leaving her precious photograph
all alone
on my bedroom floor.

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