deepundergroundpoetry.com

you think you can kill the brother of Badula?

 
      So there is this door. Nothing real spectacular for the eyes to jump off. But it used to be my momma's door,
 before that prolly somebody else's in the early thirties,
and I don't know much bout that but shortly there after it became my sister's. I can say a few things about. Her time
 on that lot. A young woman sees a dying bird.
 Picks it up. Pets it. Says comforting things in a language that ain't worms or breadcrumbs or about brethren,
 that can flap their wings ninety times a minute,
 hovering in a somewhere in time state around some sweet stuff whenever they choose to.

Add clean window.

you see one without streaks?  gotta try...


Birds break their wings. And their necks. Gods make mistakes and aunts make cousins not like each other sometimes.

      It was suppost to be easy. They both had good passports. I told manuel not to bring mota or a polaroid of that
 time in the public pool when me and sherry were young. But it could have been a pack of Marlboros, a whistle,
 picture of his father or when me and my sister were young at the North Olmsted public pool trying to teach the boys to swim. They would have got searched.

      It's had to remember your brothers. The guys that were right there when things got real bad.
What are you doing right now? does everybody get selective amnesia
 when shit starts blowin up and people start shooting?
      Not everybody,
I remember I came off mission one time, I'd been up for 7 days or so. You were mad at me cuz I went without you when you finally
realized you were in your boxers halfway to the chow hall.

There was this other door
A stink about it. The E.M.T's,the police,neighbors,your own brother,
it took riot sheilds and a vietkong worth of doggy dart tranquilizers to get your puppies away from you.
You should know that. Aiden acted like he was sleeping but then bit the coroner when the man broke out the body bag.
 The police were gonna shoot him until our embraces met at the ninety degrees of your cold meridian. No charge and clear.
Somebody important flickin their watch and saying we gotta call it.
Nobody knows better than you or your old man it's already over.

Im stll sittin here singin

Yama Yama Yama Yaaaaaama

Yama Yama Yama Yamaaaaaaaa
 
Written by johnrot
Published
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