Thursday, August 25, 2005 by Billy
sinners in crisis this is my latest audio posting. the poet begins to speak.
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Friday, August 05, 2005 by Billy
Time and a TruthDeath! Mother found you bleeding into oblivion.
Spidery wrists delicate, carved deep. Desperate.
“My God! My child! Why me?” She shrieked and testified about sins atoned. The clock chimed six. You fell underneath the world. The village stretched to the coming day. Another sun to indict with half baked bravado.
Horror! The exquisite horror of existence. The madness of a hypodermic digging your skin. An overweight nurse smiled on the wrong side of eternity. You crushed your eyes to die again.
God triumphed in the recovery room. Cain upgraded to angel meat. Mother haunted God. His rivers swelled her eyes that flowed from a thousand confessions. And you wondered why Judas failed.
A week out of death a thin girl came to you. You remembered her lonely. A strange breath in the wrong neighborhood. For the first time since your first death another being existed.
She gave you a slim book of poetry and a warning to tackle time.
That night you walked resisting free will. After dinner you stared at the stars. The sky didn't implode. The stars had just begun to betray. You struggled back inside to throttle poems.
Time shivered in the very first poem. Her words came back crashing into your consciousness out of every anguished page.
Confront time. Dig it. Stretch it on the hot asphalt before the lord of the flies. Roll beneath it like a lover doomed. Move beyond it and wait when it is ready. Straddle time for the unsought that you seek. You created time and time borrowed you. What breathes tomorrow has already suffered before. What happened yesterday keeps deceiving itself.
Illumination! Scars tattooed your spidery wrists forever. Mother watched you like a hawk. You ate for Goliath but wraith-ness reveled in you. Most days you wrote nonstop stalking every minute before it disappeared.
She killed herself with an avalanche of aspirin. They said that she had thinned out of life. Her last book of poems whispered reincarnation. You fell madly in love.
Billy Jno Hope
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