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Open Poetry #50
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Fishing With Grenades (a repost for those who never knew and those who can forget)
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Open Poetry #50
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Fishing With Grenades (a repost for those who never knew and those who can forget)
| Open Poetry #50 |
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Fishing With Grenades (a repost for those who never knew and those who can forget) |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows 
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Fishing With Grenades (a repost for those who never knew and those who can forget) We started out as boys of prey believing what we'd learned, some not even twenty mostly poor with nothing earned, others born to plenty from worlds I wished I never knew; obscenities the common glue that held our worlds together as we'd learned to stay alive. We hated everything about the place, boots, food, mud, crud that stuck eyelids together, weather, newsies, amateurish boorish fools buffoons with cameras, tape recorder spools, whiskey up the ass, white skin round eyed nurses only sleeping with the brass. I had it easy making ends meet on common ground in the jungle with the bloods, they hated all the snowflakes but I hated everyone, we started young and frightened using ordnance like toys; some were bagged up early flying home to tears and flowers, the lucky ones were tagged; all were bits and pieces returned to empty joys. The rest of us stopped being boys a tour or two ago, tucked our fears into our dreams and didn't really sleep. Nightmares came like boom-boom girls loud with lots of flash. I grew to be something else between human and a man who'd lost the fear of dying on blood trails in the bush, later I replaced it with fears of going home; even that got washed away until where I was was all I'd ever known. We learned it don't mean nothin' to get by the best you can, watch the ghosts come at you and sometimes let them pass, check the tracer colors red could be OK but green means someone's zeroed on your ass. I don't make friends; they always die and I hate them when they do. Pass the shotgun here my man we're back alive again; play the music loud and clear to hear above the ringing in my ears. Anybody hungry? Put a good edge on your blades. Wake up Doc, lets build a fire, I feel like fishing with grenades. ©2003, 2009, 2013, 2017, 2020 by icebox |
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Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
Sad slice of life...Haunting. |
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Fishing With Grenades (a repost for those who never knew and those who can forget)
