Mulligan!

This is actually poorly written, but I thought I should be relevant for once.

Mulligan!
JCD Kerwin

Gas masks and bullet stings;
surrounded by police raids,
24-hour protests in the streets.
But stop for a break
so we
can sing an Olympic song,
full of World Peace and cheer.
(Your throat gets cut
the moment
you turn your back.)

Cry-me-a-river for
YouKnowWhere and
OverThere, and
don’t forget
Egypt and Syria,
and do you remember North Korea?
(Are they making boys cut their hair,
or was that a plot twist on Reality TV?
Well,
just don’t tell Old Ringo and Paul.)
And let’s give Africa a break
now that
the greatest man
who ever gave a damn
is dead.

We can’t seem to lose
this greedy weight,
in the west;
yet others can’t get skin
to stick to bones
with the mud from homes,
in deserts.

Wave hello, tell a joke,
to this company; to this corporation—
It’s a person, just like you!
(It’s got a heart and can feel pain!)
So let it loose from the Accountability Noose.

Silicon Valley’s a fancy place
for all the techy kids who want
to hide out in the future,
pretending it’s somehow better
where the grass is deader.
(But you can’t have Tomorrow, kids,
without fixing up Today.)

Watch out!
There’s a drone overhead;
it can read the pizza order on your cell phone.

Make no excuses for the abuses
to the freedoms of our brethren.
Recite the data we’ve memorized when we close our eyes:
“Inside we’re all the same color, but
on the outside I don’t like
the way you say ‘hi,’ and
I don’t like how you tan;
the fact you love another man.
And by the way,
fuck your religion.”

Hail to this land, this earth,
this world; we are all of us damned.
Wait, I have an idea! Take my hand and I’ll lead you to the stars.
We’ll pretend we never happened.

Hallelujah.

(April, 2014)

Secret

Secret
JCD Kerwin

I place the plate of cookies
just right on the floor,
hoping that the world
doesn’t wake the monster
hiding in my closet.

(January, 2014)

monsteROAR

Yeah brah, I’m mad.

monsteROAR
JCD Kerwin

If you say this “dream” is “cute”
one more time,
I promise I
will bite your hand.
I will listen to
the voices
in my head
and snap,
claw,
howl,
like the snarling,
yipping monster in my head.

Think it’s all a game to me?
Hold out your hand;
I’ve got a shinning knife.
I love Roulette.

You think I wanted to
dump
all these bottles,
after bottles
of ink
into rivers;
crumple all the pages,
light them up,
watch them burn like
they were only meant
for kindling?
(Use your own damn bones;
they’re cold and brittle enough
to go
up in a snap.)

I drone enough
like a wind-up toy
(I’m sure of it),
but when you’re sure
it’s going to pour,
you tend to roar
like hurricanes.

I make ground shake
with my reverberating lexis;
I scream my voice into the earth
like its made of stone.
I’ll make my mark
like a cave painting—
you’ll hear me in
10,000 years,
singing like the buffalo.

Don’t think I won’t
carve myself
into your heart.
You’ll speak my words aloud but
the voice you’ll hear
is mine.
It’ll rumble like volcanoes;
I’ll shine through you
like a billion exploding stars.

Call me crazy, but
to kill my monsters
(to kill all your monsters)
I gotta stab this sword into
the gut of all Eternity.
And it all begins with you;
saving the world
begins with you.

(January, 2014)

Meta-alert

[it’s a metaphor, metaletitpour]
JCD Kerwin

stab the stylus
into skin
[rip];
place the paper
‘gainst my heart:
pulp and fiber flitter
[drip].
sanguine rivers
slip
‘round my toes:
mix it with
ink to turn
my veins to black.
fill the room with
keats’s breathings from
my asphyxiating
lungs
while you
feast on dusty bones.
cover your painted eyes
with
masks to hide
death falling new
upon the floor.

(December, 2013)

Rush Hour

 

Cracked pavement–photo from Shutterstock

Rush Hour
JCD Kerwin

My ear to the pavement;
palms down;
eyes closed;
I hold my breath
and wait
for the roar
of a hundred screeching tires.

(Oct. 2013)