A man sits and strums his guitar on the curb in front of oasis Christian center

The strings breathe sound into the air

the guitars mouth reeks of we never were

its breath smells like regret

the man lights a cigarette and the smoke gets entangled with the music

the two transform and morph into a creature with a heart bigger than his fist is

hands that were always held open

more used to being taken than to take from

my father believes that you have to steal from the world what god allows and destroy the rest of it

hands

fists

the smoke cloud expanded into a child

limbs longer than Satan’s lies

a long face that held a slingshot mouth with a tongue made of rocks that were born in misleading characters

it speaks not our language and not the truth

Unholy as the winds of the guitar that opened up its ribcage and stuck a stick of dynamite the color of silence

that’s what all this sound is

silence

the chemical reaction of religion and human nature

pollution of the soul, the kind of thing that gods people destroy

me and my fathers relationship is made of silence

every time he hid under the night sky like a sin stained parka the save him from the holy rain

and strummed his guitar with hands that had the imprints of a crusade carved across his palms

strong hands that choked the god into my smoky ribcage with his music

strumming softly that sound echoed and became a natural disaster in the cosmos and I plummeted to earth

fell flat into the ground that has no love for things unholy and looked into his eyes

they looked like suicidal hurricanes

they reflected everything I fear

they burned away all my excess, shaping me into a david

he pulled a book from the mouth of his stormy eyes and it made my heart bleed murder

and so I thought its better to assassinate the book before he murders my humanity

I haven’t seen him since, I haven’t passed the choked ground where I first landed and joined the earth as an infidel

I don’t look at raindrops, they look to much like my brothers

The way my tears take the form of humans I prefer not to cry,

Crying brings back ghosts drowned in holy water

Everything that comes from the sky makes my heart bleed

Views: 1

Reply to This

Members

Latest Activity

Samkelo Khoza posted discussions
8 hours ago
Samkelo Khoza and Taylor Roberts are now friends
8 hours ago
Elwood L. Roy replied to Elwood L. Roy's discussion The Company of Myself
"Thank you so much =) I'm always happy to hear how others interpret my writing/poetry!"
13 hours ago
Willow Naomi Curry replied to Joseph Hindogbae Kposowa's discussion NATIVE LIFE CUT (Sierra Leone)
"THIS IS PERFECT. I can't believe a teenager wrote this! this is such a perfect narrative poem--you picked the exact details to magnify and describe in detail, and it worked flawlesslt. Your sentences, your syntax...all incredible."
14 hours ago
Willow Naomi Curry replied to Elwood L. Roy's discussion The Company of Myself
"I really liked the way in which you expressed the simple idea of having someone to take away the loneliness. Your rhyme scheme is very well done, and the poem has a great rhythm. Plus, it's short and sweet."
14 hours ago
Willow Naomi Curry replied to Avital's discussion I'm from New York
"This is a great example of a narrative, slice of life poem. Excellent job. Love the rhythm of this."
14 hours ago
Willow Naomi Curry replied to Zianna Milito's discussion The Star
"Wow, I am blown away by the way in which you express your thoughts. It is so unexpected and so out of the ordinary. And you're able to fit a rhyme scheme into a poem filled with such abstract imagery."
14 hours ago
Willow Naomi Curry replied to nedu'u's discussion Episode
"I really love the words that you use; they are bursting with imagery."
14 hours ago

Photos

Loading…
  • Add Photos
  • View All

Videos

  • Add Videos
  • View All

Badge

Loading…

© 2013   Created by One Billion Poets.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service

Locations of visitors to this page Privacy Policy by TRUSTe