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Drunk Tank Shank
I once spent a week in the drunk tank couldn't handle the spirits that I drank the cuisine wasn't half bad we even had a few laughs but I had to guard my butt with a shank ………………………………………………………………………. It used to be like a tidepool brimming with the hues and movements of life now the eyes are like midnight mimes stumbling about without reason or rhyme I'm afraid the tide's going out abandoned mind You used to be so alive- the frantic butterfly lightning quick witted - warm summer smile now your impaled by disease and age the expanse of your galaxy shrinking to the size of a word search page.. You've donated your car to charity how far can one travel with a turtle's cane are you caving in on life or is life caving in on you. the glitter of youth has run its course down the mountainside of your life dear brother I fear that you've abandoned your mind- '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' She was to be the one we'd made big plans, she'd get her teaching degree mine would be in biology... then we were to marry. She was going to take me to her beloved Wales to visit her precious birthland romp in the shadows of red dragons and castles where clans engaged in battle stroll along-the ocean salted hills to the very home she grew up in.. I went away to school, time and distance have a way of crumbling relations creeping up the dark side of our imagination. On spring break i went home to visit my love forgetting about my painted toenail (the victim of a pretty tart, a few drinks and a dare) My Welsh love took one look at the bright red toe and suddenly her trust in me had a little less glow.. though I assured her the paint job was purely platonic that toe was the beginnings of our relationship rotting. Strange how our lives pivoted violently on a drunken dare and a red toe nail that cost me the love of my life, the atlantic ocean and an English castle. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………… trying to keep sinking relations afloat is like patching a old boat with stones for certain It'll go under sharks will move in to plunder then crap out your miserable bones ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………. "Its a girl" are the deadliest three words in the history of the world. They were impoverished, and the birth of a girl did not bring smiles as boys were always more cherished, what it did bring were many options all of them heart crushing and desperate- To lay her on a trash heap outside of town seemed cold and harsh they reasoned and wild beasts might painfully finished her off.. and to toss her into the froth of the Yangtze, she might get battered about to much. How about lovingly putting a hand over her little mouth but neither one had the heart to do such a thing, "besides it may take much longer than we think could we handle the stirrings and quiet screams"... We could gently place her in the chamber pot they thought and seal off the top at least it would be dark and quiet, but the pot would surely be a constant reminder... They finally decided, like million before, to place her in a basket perched high in the arms of a tree at least (they reasoned) her last day or two would be spent amidst birdsong moving along the leaves.. and the breeze might comfort her soul as it makes its way toward the heavens- ''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' You wouldn't know it but there are other colors out there the world's not all black and white there's red-yellow-brown …. but in the news its always black and white and always about white cop killing black man because it sells-its a pissin moneymaker blood and conflict make money black on black doesn't sell nearly as well.. For a day can't we just crawl out of our skin take a breath and forgive.. we've got racism on the brain its become a reflex now to shout it out if you disagree with a point of view that's why there's so little dialogue in every case real or imagined its always racism racism on the brain nothing changes its all about black and white it sells-and sells big makes billions of dollars the riots and looting are cherry on the medias' cake. Even their newspapers will stain your fingers just like when you're booked at the station because they don't want you to forget them they want you to be forever part of their record the media treats us like tramps-simpletons etches white and black violence into our heads over and over again. You wouldn't know it but there's other colors out there doing bad things to each other- but who the hell cares about yellow on yellow crime it doesn't sell-no ad revenue-no ratings but I wish the media would give them some love and attention stain their fingers for once to balance the ledger
Copyright © 2024 Anthony Biaanco. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things