writing community
Sign In Here | Lost Password | FREE Sign Up
E-mail: Password:
Remember login  
The place for writers:
Upload your writing in minutes, receive peer feedback from other writers, poets, authors, then get your work published out there in the real world.       Learn how other writers are doing it.

 
turnthepage
Jeremy Ellett
United States, Texas, Austin

Words: 336
Access: Public
Comments: 26

Forward to a friend
Print Version
E-mail this writer E-mail this user 
View Author profile
Add to Readers  




IV. The Great American Decay

"I must sound like the ghost of Christmas' past."
I said, with a wink, to the sister walking next to me.
My pockets were hanging fat and rich
full of change and other nonsense.
I was hoping that I'd see a wishing well
instead of an arcade, or at least
before a donation cup for
a blind deaf mute boy with aids
catches me with a guilty conscience on my short sleeves.
So I stayed out of the stores and on the street.

In my left hand I carried a suitcase
full of everything I've been able to hang onto and
a mind full to the cusp of all the lessons I've learned.
Everything I've been told that I should fear, I left on the curb next to every song I've ever heard.
I think it was "Instant Karma!" that finally drowned Pandora out.
Or maybe I finally walked far enough from the cries of,
"You'll see, You're wrong, We're Right."
that I could no longer hear how wrong I was

I made a sign to hold that reads, "Freedom or Bust"
but the road offers no peace, no limp wristed diplomacy.
Just shoes full of excuses and a woman to walk with me.
She filled my eyes with pride at first,
but now I can see and hear her teeth
chatter a babbling rant in a language better suited
for some long dead society..
...or maybe one yet to come....only time will tell........
....or at least whoever writes the book......
"Shaking nervous index fingers can still pull steel triggers,"
she said...
..to me, but hopefully not expecting a reply,
"Bring it back to their steel womb."
One life is born, as another walks out the backdoor.
"That's my problem," she said,
obviously believing she was on a roll.
"I just can't find a door to lock behind me."

Want to comment on this Poetry?
Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
Sign up






[Back to top]
Comments  
howard cobain Comment by: howard cobain - 2008-06-08 15:35
Add to Readers
      
who's Kerouac?
who's ginsberg?
who's zimmerman?
Stefan Comment by: Stefan - 2007-11-11 14:23
Add to Readers
      
America isn't decaying. We're doing better then everyone else.
jacoverdale Comment by: jacoverdale - 2007-10-24 07:19
Add to Readers
      
wow wow wow wow wow, this is really great stuff, the imagery and language really grabbed me, please keep it up.
jacoverdale Comment by: jacoverdale - 2007-10-24 07:19
Add to Readers
      
wow wow wow wow wow, this is really great stuff, the imagery and language really grabbed me, please keep it up.
ac7904 Comment by: ac7904 - 2007-10-24 07:09
Add to Readers
      
Very Kerouac-ian!! I instantly feel an affinity for the themes: the search for home in this post-modern mess, identity, madness and our proximity to it. And you, my friend, have some powerful lines here. I love the mixing of the real and figurative in the suitcase/mind line. The "sister's" language is unsettling because it has the ring of truth to it. Many wonderful images!
1 2 3 4 5 6 Next

Sponsored Ads


Added to Library of:

By turnthepage

Featured Writers

Advertising - Terms & Conditions - Short Story Submissions - Contact - Writing Competitions - Writing Links - Book Promotion - Sky-Tribe.com - alanemmins.com
  Member short stories, poems, comments and other contributions are owned by the poster.
Copyright 2003 - 2007 Edit Red I/S