V I

open fire
it’s always been open fire

the game operates on gruesome foundations
hear the cruel men behind the clouds
giving hope to dogs trying to grow wings
just to watch them fall
when they jump the bridge

life is tremendous
& suffering is the currency you pay for it with
some men can sit crosslegged
as the cobra raises its mighty head
and others just crumble
under the weight of a little darkness

ive been there –
too many nights spent behind curtains
drinking gin with an ulcerated tongue
talking to god
or any other unseen that will listen
to my confessions
to my whining
to my battlefield strategies
to my perversions

oblivion contains all
it might just perhaps be
the most all encompassing word
that our tribal brains conjured
the bombs in the east
the mad dictators
the gross hearts
the pickled livers
the bankrupt
the incarcerated
the little women
who avoid the streets during winter
the old man with medals on his wall
oblivion envelopes all
the past & the future & the now
all belongs to oblivion

its the great teacher
who teaches one lesson only
for cowards to become bravehearts
so that you might spark a match
or go to war
or spark a revolution
or smile in the face
of grim circumstance
to dance despite the odds
& raise your callused hands
like trophies to the sky

once you listen and understand
oblivion
you are given a place on the mount
your eyes will carry a blazing fire
enemies & jealous men
can only kill you with something blunt
and you can lay there on your back
as they bludgeon your skull
and laugh
laugh so wildly
that it stirs tears
and terror in their hearts
as they take you

to

oblivion