Monday, March 7, 2011

Poems from Iraq

I am not much of a poet but I felt compelled to write as tho a ethereal being was moving my hand for me, these are a few of the results from the "sandbox" . 

                                                       "Are you living?"

I was walking through an alley downtown and I saw a man with a bald head, as he got closer I realized he had no face. I froze stiff in my tracks as soon as I noticed this, he kept creeping toward me like a zombie focusing on its prey. It was whispering something, but I couldn't make out what it was saying until it was right on top of me, I was frozen solid with fear as it started circling me with its head a few inches from mine whispering "Who?" "When?" "Why?" in a demonic voice saying those words over and over again. After slowly circling me 3 times it stopped right in front of my face still rambling those words. It stood their for what seemed like forever focusing deep into my soul with its onyx black eyes, then the creature cocked its head sharply to the side, I heard a loud snap and its head dangled grossly flapping from side to side as it crept back into the shadows. 

Graffiti is beautiful, placed on clean, fresh surfaces where it doesn't belong. Sitting their staring back at the people who pass by it like an outcast. Speaking to them as they pass that this world is not perfect. Striking a little bit of fear into the hearts of the higher class as they pass by. Deface propaganda, pull people down out of the clouds with truth.

I'm falling, trying to cling on to something, scared senseless of hitting the ground, getting consumed by the earth, vines pulling me down, kicking and scratching trying to escape this fate. Can only hold on so long, struggling to live, to exist. The earth where I was born from its soil and roots, becoming more inviting as time passes, struggling is futile... Mommy I'm coming home to your roots once again. 

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