Poetry comes back into my life, full circle, every time I’m squared by trials and tribulations I so desperately need to conquer. Regardless of two shins bruised by a maddening search for peace and tranquility through a field of burning coal, I anticipate the relief I’ll feel as soon as I take that first step into paradise with a simper on my face. In God’s name!
But, as easy as that sounds, how can I ever feel that relief if I don’t face the monsters that appear when I close my eyes? Monsters I can’t seem to defeat no matter what sword I pierce their flesh with. Monsters with energy seemingly endless to a soul being depleted of its life-force. Mine being a pen and pad Jesus shines his light on as soon as I rise from a slumber I used to wish was permanent…
Poetry. It saved my life before! And, it will save my life again. How can I ever ignore the one place where I’m loved without the slightest hint of hesitance? I’ll tell you how. Try mixing a self-loathing mind with a 40oz, 10 joints/blunts a day along a casual dosage of Benadryl (no less than 4) to put yourself to sleep since you couldn’t do that on your own any longer. Eventually, all that will matter to you are two questions: Will I have enough money to eat and smoke today? Will I be able to buy some booze and bud? That’s it. Your decaying teeth won’t matter. Neither will the putrid smell coming from your unwashed, calloused and sweaty feet. Your kidneys? Well, as they shutdown, the pain you’ll feel wouldn’t even make you budge an inch. There’s no way you can with a spirit that has gone, Dark…
“Geez, man! Well, how would you know? Not everybody’s the same.”
I hear some people say occasionally. And I’ll tell you how! Pretty simple answer when you’ve been doing that yourself for the past six years of debauchery, walking on mental crutches my vices split in half while on my way to the alter. Sure! it was fun. Many nights were spent as high as you can be, reciting music all night long until my vocal cords tangled and choked me into silence. Every word uttered hurting my throat like a jab to my jaw. Trust me, I know. I know the horrors awaiting your arrival, the flames of Persephone we all like to call “Mary Jane” and various other names unfitting to her true nature. See that Budweiser (or whatever silly drink you indulge on, bitterly)? Pretty much the final cornerstone to a triangle you are bound to get lost in…
But, hey! You don’t have to listen to me. You don’t have to listen to a dire warning that would’ve saved so many lives from a death most will never come back from. You really, really don’t have to. I mean, go ahead and listen to the voices in your head. Ignore the goosebumps rising on your body before every purchase you can’t make without putting your head down. See where it leads you at the end of it all. All I know is, where I’ve ended up with an escape route God provided for me.
Poetry…
Thank God for poetry…
m3l0dicverse 
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