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 Feb 2013 Jake Spacey
tread
Insecurities range from mild to severe
deal with it, land-rover. deal with it finity, in finity
it's not a meaningful solution
to worry like a bathroom mat.

but honesty is a better policy
isn't it?
 Feb 2013 Jake Spacey
tread
it was exactly a week ago but it feels like
Waters have paused to ask directions from air and lava
And lava, in it's lost hots, slinking its way down Mount St. Helens
Couldn't hear water

yellin'.

It's still as if
there were no Mexico
and as if
you ceased to swallow the clanks
of arachnid 'where'd-ya-go's'
in favour of
where the wild river flows

This oval prose is not a rose
It's cheaper
and I'm tellin ya
Count the rocks connected on the second front of sidewalk and that's how you might forget
how much
it costs
to miss you.
4 days.
 Feb 2013 Jake Spacey
John
Drunkkk
 Feb 2013 Jake Spacey
John
amongst all this frivolity
im ingesting the public view, no apologies.
As I'm taken under, I can feel  my own plunder
like that **** that stinks, I surely belong in the gutter
Dont Mutter. A single word is splattered.
On the wall, i'm going slowly like a  decrepit crawl  
draining down, hell bound, i'm in the mix, just of the crowd.
Dancing and prancing and donating the hate,
im out of sorts at dinner, without a plate.

Uninvited guest, pounding in my chest.
I'm drunk, and everything in life is looking like a giant mess.
Writing while your drunk can be a great breakthrough or a terrible mistake.
 Feb 2013 Jake Spacey
Anne M
She never knew him
when his shirt buttons popped
on a summer evening.

He never saw her
flailing arms become fluid
in the water.

They didn’t know each other
long enough
to have inside jokes
or lasting memories.  

She didn’t memorize
his voice or face,
but she's been told
she has his eyes.

He never saw her tantrums
turn to teenage angst
and she never knew him
when his hair was
dark and full.

They never finished
each other’s sentences
or played catch-up on the phone.

He never saw her graduate
from high school
or kindergarten.

She never learned his best-loved book.
He never taught her to whistle,
but she knows his favorite tune.

He’s the reason
she sees a challenge
in every stoplight.

All she has of his
are a charity baseball cap and
a love of John Wayne.

She's in awe of a memory.
Her faded hero.
The fable in her photograph.

He might not recognize her now.
She only ever knew him then.
I tore it down
All of it
Everything that resembled Mr. Brown

His clothes are in trash bags
The decor in pieces
Desecrated all of his flags

"Mr. Brown, don't ever show your face around,
or I'll put you in a coffin." I said
He looked confused as I pronounced Bob Marley lyrics in a way profound

" I do not blame you, but myself,
for the day you came in
I put my soul on a shelf"

"You are contorted and misconstrued
there is nothing but darkness
in the life around you"

He seethed with fury.
The kind I had when I was a child
He spoke shortly, yet with a dramatic flurry.

" You may send me away," he spat
I tried to contain my fear
"But you know as well as I do, I'll return and it won't be for a chat"

A sudden calm washed over me.
And I said with a devious smile
"Last time I let you. The next time I won't let be"

His coal black eyes perfectly matched his mouth; agape
as he stood stunned. A painting of disbelief.
I escorted him to the exit and sealed it with duct tape

*because duct tape fixes everything
Part 11 of the Kutisha series "ujenzi"
© February 19th, 2013 by Timothy R Brown. All rights reserved.
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