the wreckage of our lives

“this poet is out of control, although most artists experience a decline in their creative abilities as they age john continues to write with an intensity that far surpasses all that he has written before and, recently, seems to have made a breakthrough catapulting his output to a level of genius in the art of poetry” – from an anonymous online admirer

 

          (“cause all i really want is to be with you

          and feel like i matter too” - gin blossoms)

 

turning away from yesterday

i find there’s so much left to say

the five of us came from her womb

and two of us are now entombed

the legacy of my mother

severe abuse we discovered

more issues than time magazine

from alcohol we could not wean

where recent two sisters have died

from all the drinks that they imbibed

they died alone in motel rooms

uniforms followed by dancing brooms

say what you will about our less

righteous indignation lacks righteousness

you’d rather read between the lines?

i’m switching gears, i’ll make them grind

shocked by seamen sacrifices

watch the watchers watch the vices

out of control? will not console

the ticking clock that takes its toll

i search for meaning, love and truth

forever trapped within my youth

i’m writing this while on the run

while you console with a repugn

if i would just heed your advice

the seamen of my sacrifice

would seed the need of callous creeds

the dividends to your proceeds

but i have had my fill of this

in her maternal loving kiss

that made us five not quite alive

our every act was to survive

within a functionality

at which none of us will succeed

***