Tag Archives: turkey

urban sentinel of the east, satellite of the old western night

banana peels and condoms cremate the path through the reservoir.
Be good, if you can’t, shadowbox questions waywardly.
We cough on the dust of aged halls,
junk-ill, ill of the junk that follows dawn.

The old and lived glow a degradation in regards to their living,
as a junkie craves the drop and the man, as hath been done in youth.
Cynics embark knowing their children will board the same ferry,
bountiful in; regulations, sorcery, cures, curses, errant maxims.

The toothless young woman donning canceled eyes, worn lips,
skirting cold turkey banquets to bask in rosy summer-sun chances.
Several years lost in several minutes, like kilograms of bad habits.
A ghost yearns what it does not have, a warm body to within, dance.

Sprinkled gold above legendary hotel doorknobs. Behind, a cell.
Not a flicker of an eyelid over the atomic bombs, nightbugs,
But fine faces of flatulent friends biding to collect fond flesh.
Con-artists, crooks be nothing more than they are,
nothing to lose but their touch.

Rancid muses, warm whimpers of lore lost, taxicabs, clever corners,
lit of kindled banana peels and kindling condoms.

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Filed under fiction metaphor, poetry

Fox in the Snow, Lion in the Station Wagon

Cops are required to uphold and enforce the law. Reporters are pretty much required to do the same, except, uphold the truth and enforce the truth. Pop quiz: what do you call a false statement that you promote and fence to others who actively look toward your answers and responses? I’ll let that stew for a moment, and continue with cops and shit. An honest cop is dubbed a hero, dubbed noble, dubbed dependable. As long as they are an honest cop. However, within law enforcement, there aren’t always honest cops. Crooked cops. Corruption, mis-information, tamperings-of-evidence. It happens. Figure out the answer to the pop-quiz question?

It’s called a lie. The difference between a cop, and a reporter, is a reporter is guilty until proven innocent. Why that is the general consensus, I do not know. What I do not know, I will embrace. A crooked cop is crooked when he is caught. Logical? Yeah. A reporter will go great lengths; barbed wire, ugly killer dogs, bad music, jurisdictions, aliases, etc. That’s a reporter, also guilty until proven innocent because the truth itself is widely regarded to dissemble the perpetrators, or dissemble the actuators. The truth is dangerous to both parties and only the reporter has any control over such information. i.e. 24, CIA, FBI, the West Wing, Gilligan’s Island, Arthur, etc.

“What about white lies?” Some may wonder? I will then counter with; “how can you tell a white lie from the other?” 

How? I was the reporter, and no good was derived. The cunning and equipped (friends/weapons/truths), are dominant. Those of whom can and will crush whenever they please, and that’s just the world we live in, whilst one is powerful, or whilst one’s forced to work tenuously on obtaining a GED. Sometimes, and at most times (due to my freakishly accurate memory), it was infinitely more advantageous to just not fucking say anything. I just had a thing about taking my own advice. Though, I’d never thought, or dreamed of saying this as a final statement; “The truth will not set you free, it will piss the wrong person off, most every time…

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Filed under non-fiction metaphor, stories