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redbarchettadrive
Poems
May 2012
The Gypsy Angels Are Crying (I Was Not, Yet There I Go)
I was not, yet there I go--
a childhood re-invented,
one rabbit's foot and skeletons
of ghosts line my pockets.
Where the carnival puppets
pressed their thorns and had torn my flesh.
Chariots always grotesquely alter at midnight.
His night drunkenness rekindled the flames
of my hell.
I could smell daddy
down the hall--
He and his tenderness disorder.
I always scream on the inside
when he walks in my room.
In a slaves frenzy, I kick!
Poisonous memories, rancid and
acidic,
that burning flow,
drips thick inside my brain.
Devouring everything I thought was
good in this world.
--Black and white, black and white.
Everything is black and white!
The impure child, once more baptizes
the devil into eternity.
Whiskey lake laps at the shore
as the gypsy angels are crying.
I was not, yet there I go...
Written by
redbarchettadrive
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