{"id":2948,"date":"2020-01-17T07:44:16","date_gmt":"2020-01-17T12:44:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/poeticexorcisms.com\/?p=2948"},"modified":"2020-01-17T07:44:16","modified_gmt":"2020-01-17T12:44:16","slug":"an-evening-spent-with-beer-cans-and-a-computer-screen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/poeticexorcisms.com\/index.php\/2020\/01\/17\/an-evening-spent-with-beer-cans-and-a-computer-screen\/","title":{"rendered":"an evening spent with beer cans and a computer screen"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>\n

angels resting on retired rooftops
\nrotting and resisting the urge to laugh
\nas silly humans chase a child’s game<\/p>\n

i’m walking toward a stop light
\ncontemplating a futile fight
\nas an elusive goddess
\ntells me to write
\nmystery on vines decayed by normality<\/p>\n

and in the distance a simple soldier wages a quiet war
\nwith pencils drawn, and pennies faced heads up
\nneck and chin held to oblivion
\nshould he surrender to this sideways circumstance
\nfateful dance, passive chance
\nhe’s tired of another failed romance<\/p>\n

one more time, try to find
\nthe secret to everyday life
\nand why is the morning so blue
\nas white hot ghosts shade the landscape
\nrushed and dumped into something new
\nwe are flattened by wars, inflation, and faded love
\nit’s a social media sickness
\nas communities crawl past extinction
\nbarely able to make the distinction
\nof monsters disguised as leaders
\nlying in wait<\/p>\n

dysfunctional caption, closed scene
\na dead symphony cries in this mortal moment
\nas a sad clown and dr strangelove
\nexchange pleasantries at the pyramid of dawn
\nwaiting for another beautiful date
\nof simple destruction<\/p>\n

walking backwards from a anonymous computer screen
\ni see all these white sheets and red tears
\nhaunted by luxurious fears
\nkiss me twice to signal the beginning and the end
\npunched by drunk love
\ni lost the bet before i ever wagered<\/p>\n

one more six pack
\none more lonely night
\nsitting at this littered desk
\ni feel like i could write
\nthe world
\ninto several small phrases
\nwith arms stretched wide to embrace the crucifixion<\/p>\n

but i can’t write the horoscope of today
\nwithout finite words of yesterday
\nand tomorrow is never certain<\/p>\n

absent and written on september soil
\nthe wolves don’t howl anymore
\nand the birds have flown south
\nit\u2019s a separate season
\nand i embrace this glorious treason
\nremember the eyes please
\nand trace the dream
\ni crave the fire held in your raven hair<\/p>\n

nothing good can come of this
\nyet, i feel that i\u2019m on to something
\nso, erase me one more time
\nbecause filth flies first
\nin the cradle of fabrication and flirtation
\nas evenings are spent
\nsubtly weaving ghost stories
\nwith tanned hands surrounded by
\nfast music in a slow background
\nkiller caress
\nhow can we still the shaking
\nof these salvaged shackles?<\/p>\n

i dance with the dark
\ndark moon, dark skin
\ndark visions of what might have been
\ncall the chaplain
\nfor i’ve come to learn the meaning of sin<\/p>\n

captured by spent passion
\nin the snail trail evening
\ni’m looking for something to fill this green void<\/p>\n

nothing is new
\nyet, living through death
\none moment of ecstasy
\ncan free you from all this
\nbanal morality<\/p>\n

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