Tragedy (Ain’t No Shame)

31 Mar

———–

Tragedy (Ain’t No Shame) 

 

The battle started tenderly

like a crucifixion

in the voice of women whom I loved

Heinrich Heine quips wittily

wily from his mattress-grave

we speak

the blood rushing to my neck

across the shoulders

through the veins

like Christmas lights lighting up one at a time

“sleep is good,

“death is better;

“but of course,

“the best thing would to have never been born at all.”

I had a dream

and her mouth was cold

my vision clouded

a martyr waits to be confirmed

angry at the slow bureaucratic process

not a monster, but a visionary

he preached that “love

“is like burning skin,

“like ghosts materializing, singing

“chalk crushed against cement

“a child abandoned by his mother’s arms.”

 

It started small, with

“you should have let me go”

but then became despotic

we got high

while they worried about the devil

and other biblical fictions

which lock you up

teasing at an unfathomable freedom

a tourniquet in the shape of a rosary

oh, the humanity

I want nothing part of

just her and maybe a little space

a spade shining in her eye

a walk to blossom into

because eventually when the cigarette gets smoked

we wont be frightened

we’ll look firm at the expanding void

and mock whatever it was that evolved us

in a heavy Brooklyn accent

“if it’s your job to forgive us –

“you might as well take the day off.”

 ————

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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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