POEM: The Interconnected Rages

The Interconnected Rages 

My anger sketches out the landscape
an architect of scratchy twigs and jagged lines
(I feel something deeper than need and thus
unnameable) insistence I have a big thing to say.
To winter even the least of my worries—insurmountable.

Slicker than a seal looks, oily,
black like crude-soaked down.

My weeping robs its tears from famine victims
whose breaths billow a tornado.

We thus destroy each other 
with sighs whose wrath could split the lightning,
shocking more than a downed power line 
through the limp then stiff then limp again 
form of a blackened infant.

12/28/2011

Songs about hope

"And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me. Shine until tomorrow, let it be."

So I just walked through hell. Really.
It's been a long couple months.

I feel like I'm coming out the other side of a truly horrid ordeal, well it's not that I feel that way so much as that's the way it really is. And it is pretty glorious to be able to sit here and listen to "Here Comes the Sun" and "Let It Be" and not feel cynical about it at all.

You know it's a pretty horrific ordeal when it turns an atheist into some semblance of a believer--and please don't think I mean "Christian."

What I mean is I believe there to be a higher force in this universe that had a hand in my being able to keep breathing--and that's pretty cool.

So...yeah. No smart-ass sign-off line, no hip bullshit. I'm just fucking glad to be alive.

I miss Keith. But I can't keep letting his death kill me. Cuz that's where I was heading.

Love you everyone,

Rosswell