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Kellin Apr 2019
is delicate.
prone to trauma,
and thus an effortless
vehicle for vengeance.

with a river of pain coursing
through arteries
and slender vessels linked
between the most vital
***** and the source
of thought, emotion
quite often thwarts wisdom.

And, oh children,
a steel serpent lingering
within easy reach
remains ever ready
to strike
at will.
Kellin Apr 2019
have mostly passed,
pressed into the pages
of history books, but how
they linger in memory!

two men, reputations
mutually compromises,
meet to prove their valor
on the feild of honor.

with great ceremony,
their seconds present
the pistols, oiled and gleaming
deadliness in the wavering light.

the rivals take their places
and, beloved guns in hand,
they stand back-to-back,
gathering courage.

eight paces in opposite
directions, at the signal, turn,
take aim, praying it’s straight,
that your sight remains plumb.

Kellin Apr 2019
will supersede innate character,
if such a thing, in fact, exists.

consider every infant enters
the world essentially a blank journal.

you might say the quality of the paper
will determine the ultimate value

of the chronicle, but who could argue
that the words to be imprinted there

matter more? if one scribbles
******* on vellum, it remains *******.

take a child by nature gentle,
teach him to excise insect wings

and reward him for such behavior?
he’ll run off in search of butterflies

with no regard except, perhaps,
pride at leaving his indelible stamp

on the natural realm. dear ones,
instruct your youngsters well.
Kellin Apr 2019
is vastly overrated.
you can think you’ve tucked
something far, far away,
relegated it to a dark cupboard
inside your psyche, slammed
the door closed.

but you can never secure
the latch completely.

childhood traumas
are especially persistent,
ricocheting wall to wall to wall
until finally a crack appears,
leaking memories.

and with them, often,
the desire for reckoning.

here, character counts,
reinforcing strength of will,
the lean toward good or evil
as much about programming
as instinct.
Kellin Feb 2019
fuel desperation,
and so are valuable
assets in the game
of spinning chambers.

one ***** is all it takes.

you might not believe
a person still wading
through adolescence
could harbor such
malevolent intent.

one slight is all it takes.

age is barely even
a consideration when
haunted by the desire
for revenge or need
of self-preservation.

one fragile moment is all it takes.

fewer years simply
equate to shallower
perspective, exacerbating
youthful impulsivity.

one bullet is all it takes.
Kellin Jan 2019
if you do still care, Lord, please keep me safe.
Kellin Jan 2019
thoughts bulleted
in my brain, ricocheting,
creative side to practical side,
lustful half to hateful half.
sleep? yeah, right.

i got up, located cleanser
and sponge, scrubbed
the bathroom,
washed the dishes,
waxed the kitchen floor.

wrote a four- page
letter to my sister,
told her i was in love.
with a girl.
i think i asked
for her forgiveness.

wrote a poem, and epic, tinged
with dark humor,
decided to give it to my mom
because this was all her fault.

went to the bathroom,
considered my ground stomach,
but the thought of food made me want to heave.
settled for a beer. That went down fine,
so I had another.
and another.
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