Brian Sambourne Poet Free verse

Fury

Zak at fifteen is a grounded tanker
       spilling an oily vitriol 
       as we listen

"You know how I'm wired! Weed frees me! Chokes off the 
dark. Your bloody voices shame me! Messing me up! So I
toke! Bleak dreams break me!  Sometimes, hung over, I can't 
see the sun.  What do you want?  A Christmas Eve peace
where we kiss in fake goo?  Why all the BS about an elephant in the room?  Everybody needs to stop talking about it!  Stop
looking at me like you want to see underneath it!  Because I
don't know what good is!"

Outraged ire that snaps the air
                                like cheap china crashing
                                his pitch for freedom
Toxic stares 
           as he sweats in the ruling wreckage of words
           what is his unheard story?
           
The family craves a sane peace, some zone of happiness
                                 silver bow of recovery
Zak on speed dial
                         turbulent
                         straining at reason
                         crossing an invisible border
                         in the cradled heat of summer
His self harm like a full body cast 
                                          with no zip line
                                                              out









Poem composed: June 30, 2021

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Caren Krutsinger July 17, 2021 at 3:44 AM This is fifteen so aptly displayed. "What do you want? A Christmas Eve peace where we kiss in fake goo? " Oh, yes, this is what we ALL want. Brian Sambourne July 17, 2021 at 1:45 PM Hi Caren, Your comments are always interesting. Thanks very much for reading + responding to my submission. Be well. Brian

Gary Radice July 12, 2021 at 2:11 AM Powerful stuff Brian. You present Zak with his problems and his rage suggesting it could be fuelled by weed but leave open his story before. This is more than a generation gap. It may not appear so but Zak is crying out for help. I like it when a poem gets me involved, leaves me asking questions and wanting to know more. My thoughts only. Cheers - Gary Brian Sambourne July 12, 2021 at 6:39 AM Greetings Gary, Much appreciation for your insightful remarks. Yes, Zak's heavy weed hits are a cry for help. Something unspoken has fueled his anger, his addiction. To me, a poem should leave some motives, feelings, words in dark shadows. Thank you again, Brian

Rama Balasubramanian July 11, 2021 at 11:03 AM well penned! Congratulations. Brian Sambourne July 11, 2021 at 11:20 AM Thank you, Rama, for your thoughtfulness. Cheers, Brian

Sam Kauffman July 11, 2021 at 8:58 AM Very well done Brian. This is full of strong visual images and powerful imagery expressing the turbulence and turbulent! Congratulations on your win! Brian Sambourne July 11, 2021 at 10:34 AM Greetings Sam, You are a fine fellow, indeed, in your supportive comments. Thank you. Be well. Brian

Christuraj Alex July 11, 2021 at 7:41 AM Well written. Congratulations! Brian Sambourne July 11, 2021 at 7:43 AM My appreciation for your drop by + congratulations. All the best, Brian

John Lawless July 11, 2021 at 7:23 AM Brian, the opening of this poem is the perfect metaphor for the deceit of the addicted...both of themselves and others. Thanks for participating in the contest Brian Sambourne July 11, 2021 at 7:32 AM Hello John, Thanks very much for the high placement in your contest. Quite a fine prompt for writing: "Let er Rip." Best wishes, Brian

Susan Woodrow June 30, 2021 at 9:54 PM Zak at 15 is obviously making enough to support his bad habit...the question is, how? Then the next question, is what dark does 15 years of life already know? Great write...had me thinking in various tangents...like to not know what good is at that age is very strange...and yet, youngsters have always seen so much more than their parents or elders thought... fury on both sides of the generation gap so darn cliche, I wish evolution would speed the heck up lol ...enjoyed the read :) Brian Sambourne June 30, 2021 at 10:10 PM Hello Susan, Thank you for your insightful comments. You're right that the generation clash is something of a cliche. And yet (sometimes) a cliche has become one because of its repetitive presence that persists. How does Zak support his weed habit? That's problematic. Unexplored. But if my piece gave the reader a moment's pause in thought, then I am gladdened. Thank you for the stop by. Cheers, Brian