Call To Arms

There didn’t have to be a reason no one thing no trigger it was always boiling just beneath the surface always. It could have been the number of soldiers lying empty on the desk next to the ashtray. You know the one the one that left the two scars the one into which you stamped your anger hostility hopelessness. I could always tell in the car Adele’s playing the hours will not pass quickly it will be a long night a call to arms a call in the morning “I won’t be in today something’s come up.” And blood would seemingly trickle from the corners of your downturned mouth from your hateful eyes from chewing on the razors of your merciless rage and despair. So many candle impressions left on walls breaking windows staining chairs so many treasures and keepsakes shattered. Amazing how everything was always ready for a new scene how you managed to replace the facts change the clues change impressions replace the views. But then you were exceptional at evaporating the mess outside scrubbed tidy (inside would always be ugly spiteful vengeful) you were so thorough so vigorous through your efforts appearances were kept. Not me nothing clean here filthy with horrors dirty with dread scummy with fear on the inside never knowing when the other heel was going to drop or when peacekeepers would appear skeptical again arrangements were made. In the end you wrote a play I was the unknowing lead the irony the comedy the blasphemy great theatre it didn’t win me awards you got me put away what a drama! Your performance epic your sad woman’s show! No sweat took on the bout no man could win no sweat it was the principle of it I wasn’t lying down but the judge she didn’t see it my way funny that k’od. Oh, but now! But now! I have today freedom never tasted so good sometimes I’m amazed that I don’t have more scars but then again your aim was never that good was it? (click on the pic to buy my poetry book!)