Poem: To Be Continued (1)

Confidently ready the blades on your forearms, guardian soldier,

hold them up as a dangerous defense, they’re like you I guess

except you sometimes gotta shoot kids, which is not your fault

we both know, it just seems like they don’t pay you enough

to gamble with your life the way you do in the increasingly violent sectarian skirmishes

that just overtook the apartment building that is your life and you couldn’t

save anything, doesn’t it?

 

I guess I’m just saying it’s impossible that I’ll feel

completely calm in my position, most of the time, but I think it’s possible

that some of you will be called upon to make a choice which goes against the spirit

of everything you believe, or thought you would accept if given

the world on a string in a box.

 

What if heaven starts like a sun rainbow,

and ends like a head-heavy rocket fart?

 

What do we do then except ask

to join the purgatory that exists on earth, as we’ve all been dead many times

before, but we keep coming back.

 

Heaven is empty

of permanent civilian citizens living year-round, mostly

because spirits come to know how valuable pain can be, and they keep

going back over and over again, just hoping against hope it will be better

this time, and it always is, inevitably.

 

This way the spirits came to view pain and pleasure

very differently than we do, or you do, I forget who was

talking about the way there are spirits addicted to heaven

but their aren’t, or maybe there are.

 

This one time a spirit came back and said he’d had a great life

this time, as he’d been devoted to exquisite beauty flowing passion

pores through him with the breath of life, and he said it was so beautiful

he didn’t notice that reality was slipping from him, until psychosis took hold

making him murder seven people and hold his wife hostage until through a megaphone

she tore his life from hers, and he blew his brains out.

 

The murderers soul lay in limbo for a time, stretching its mind

out as far as it could go, seeing the experiences of all people in all times

simultaneously, until it could see the justice of it, the fact that there is

no justice, and never could be.

Poem: To Be Continued (1)

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