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I inhale temptation;

shrugging shoulders of

mortality.

Suck teeth stained

with indifference;

While copyrighting

my daydreams. 

I’m an American Badass,

low class, white trash,

with expensive delusions.

I get impatient with repetition,

So I shovel spiritual vagrancy into the 

mouths of my peers

with metaphoric spilled beers

and ashy mouthed proclamations

of a wandering disposition. 

I sing songs tied to the same ragged beat,

the one that makes the speakers 

bleed just as much as the  crowd.

Heavy Metal rants,

just sharp enough to rip

the pants of your morality

                     … but, just for the night

In the morning the truth of why 

you’re here, and anything else

that seemed unclear…

will be hanging low,

just over your head

like ripened fruit;

Fighting gravity the 

way you’ve been fighting

responsibility…

It’s right in your face. 

Like heavy elbows in a mosh pit. 

Your stomach is curdled,

soul a little sick,

but your eyes have never

been more focused.

You understand what is important:

The friends willing to toss a full 

beer, 

brave the circle pit,

 pick you up, dust you off…

And throw you back in

with a smile. 

The Scars you’ve earned,

and the blood you’ve saved. 

The pain you’ve felt,

the joy shown through busted lips

and scabbed knees;

the chaotic calm of life lived

on the brink.

The Circle Pit Sanctuary.

Where the lost can rage,

and be at peace.

Where the broken

find the truth in the

lies of their lives.

Where the hopeless

can strike at the wind,

and fall against muddy Earth,

to be picked up by

a brother,

by a sister,

by the music of

the anger being

purged from a spirit

that might not have

otherwise made it

….to the show.

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
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