You lied to me about baptism. The intoxication
and its sinful concoction sweating from some bottles
whose name sounds like a saint I worshipped
night after night.
I gulped down gallons like the torrential rains outside.
Submerged in the bubble of nameless strangers
in the watering hole. Kindred souls searching
for some kind of salvation.
The cloud of smoke, its humid and hazy steam blurred
my visions into hallucinations. Of angels and demons
dancing in revelry. The dirt and grime camouflaging
the filth of the mundane.
The surging numbness of a hundred knives dripping down
my throat. Felt like hell on earth, whose flame creeping
a river of fire. Dissecting, invading, lacerating my innards
into a violent storm.
A deluge I have cried and my salty tears breaching
these floodgates of the dam. I swam away from this murky tide,
its rampaging waters, swelling a flood into my bloodstream.
Drowned in a landslide.
This is not the heaven you promised. You lied.
Solitude Amidst the Maddening Crowd
Shadow Son
Posted in Current Affairs, Literature, Memoirs, Poetry, Relationships, Religion, Social Commentary, Society, tagged alone, amble, amount, animal, anymore, become, begin, bitter, bone, bridge, chain, child, clothing, definition, disowned, distance, doors, down, dreams, exist, face, faceless, fatherless, fend, first, flesh, flight, free, gunpowder, hand, handprints, heartless, hide, himself, image, journey, knock, learn, left, life, lived, lock, mirror, molting, naked, nameless, newborn, old, own, paperbills, past, place, poem, poetry, redemption, reflection, refuse, representation, restrained, shadow, shattered, shimmer, silence, smell, someone, son, strangers, strip, sun, taste, touch, true, tyke, victim, water, way, welcome, wine, wings, words, world, years on July 31, 2013| Leave a Comment »
No amount of words can bridge
the distance of years in silence-
because the sun hides its face
like the way a tyke, fatherless
and left out into the world
to fend for himself. Alone.
Someone has to refuse
to become the victim anymore.
You knock some doors
and it is locked. You are not
welcome there. And a hand
is restrained to touch his own
shadow or an image reflected
a life mirrored in water.
Disowned molting who just
learned its first flight
and give ambled wings
to shattered dreams.
Of the smell of gunpowder.
The handprints on paperbills
and the bitter taste of wine.
None of which represents
your true bone stripped of flesh.
An animal with no redemption-
heartless and chained.
You will refuse to let the past
define you of who you will become.
And you begin the journey
to a place of faceless and nameless
strangers. You will exist
as though you just have lived
and strip down the shadow
as an old clothing. Naked and free
shimmering like a newborn child.
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