Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.81

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

PART THE SECOND
Bathed in our brother’s blood.
Bearing the bread.
Bearing the bomb.
On we plow, without repentance
without shame nor penance.
Muddy boots filled with determined feet
it ignites
crossfire with the speed of darkness
tap, tap, tap, brrrattaatatattat, kaboom.
legs like molasses, 
hold their place
marking that spot with their footprints.
one by one
they fall
tap, tap, tap
yet somewhere in the world there is the sound of Pachelbel’s Canon in D
and the thought of a warm fireplace and pinot noir.

The coffee’s cream rises to the surface
the waitress with her wavering smiles, glances over to the wall where
the television preaches its sermons to the onlookers around
channel 1, channel 2, channel 3…
she tells you about how her mother died last Saturday.
You pretend to listen with the upmost interest.
The monotone shade of the newspaper bores your eyes more than her sob story.
To be frank, the permanence of the world’s activity couldn’t be less stirring.
So you listen, keenly.
You end up crying with her
a pang of despondency creeps down your spine and shutters your feeble frame to your very fingertips.
channel 4, channel 5, channel 6…
rain and moonlight through the shudders
sleeping on the couch and giving in
Adderall and Citalopram
Praying and the lack of Church clothes,
people that don’t quite fit with each other
songs that don’t quite fit with the weather
and light that fits perfectly with a raindrop.

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required