January 31, 2008

Horrible Deal : A Poem

Horrible Deal

I'd like to tell you my story in the same assured voice that whispered Mica the prophesy of Justice and humble walks with thy Lord.

I yearn for the voice that speaks in sun-rays from cloud-cover and burning archetypes,
conversation purged of get-down anger and and lift-up righteousness.

Speak to me of eyes that see and ears that hear.
Worlds transformed by lens I see through.

What do you offer there in your outstretched hand,
all shaky and clammy and not perfect?

You offer me dissolution of a separation that exists, a line where once a wall stood.
You offer me the hopeful paradox of life lived short and sweetly.

I want practical assurances with the grace you humbly offer
I want practical respite from practical frenzy
practical absolution from practical prack...tick...cal...ness.

Theses negotiations always go the same way,
(the same poem again and again)
all devouring demons and blood thirsty bliss.

The compulsions are the same beneath the surface,
here behind the skin, behind those flawed outstretched hands and this blackened corpse grinning wildly and screaming truth in its fried hair and crispy wings.

This horribleness is in you.
The one who makes the tentative offers,
who negotiates the back-room deals,
who marries the ugly daughter and sticks the knife into the fleshy part of the only little thing you ever really cared about.

Yes, there is sunlit beauty and 9 year olds demanding answers and dogs dreaming of sticks and trains arriving with lovers kissing on foreheads and hot water in the kettle and tulips alive in the snow. Yes, there is gold magic markers and brilliance behind the microphone and eyeglasses on noses and incense in temples and needles on thread. Yes, there is candles on windowsills and homecomings and footsteps and homecomings and washing and laughing and tossing and napping and...
and....
and...

But it is still a horrible deal.
Its terrible terms that you offer.
Its an awful game that you designed.

The only way I could possibly stand it is to know that you are playing it too.

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