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John Andrew Jan 2019
...
I’m not a live Obama
Im not even a Dead Kennedy
i run against addiction
to be
president of my identity.

Some people shoot schools
i’d  give a second shot at school,
instead of acting fool,
being my own enemy.

Falling off the ledge of
privilege,
i didn’t wanna be a pilgrim,
thought i’d live life on edge,

i look in the mirror:
i’m tired of being him,
i pledge,
i shall be changing in a grin.

my teeth are grinding against each other
i don’t sleep,
won’t die like my brother,

why bother he said,
i’d rather go ahead and
lay the cards that i have dealt
instead of laying in an
envy bed with an empty head.
John Andrew Dec 2018
Albert used to spend whole days
alone in his garage.
A little fridge with cold brews
and a wall of empty crates.

He'd also nurture his garden,
rarely speaking to people.

At one point something went down,
went downhill from there.

One morning he fainted at work
and never woke up.
****** cancer.

When my mother heard of it over the phone,
she went hysterical; yelling in the streets and alerting the neighborhood.
Thinking back on her reaction,
it annoys the **** outa me.
Albert was our neighbor,
even if the kids would call him uncle.

I've had a lot of uncles who weren't
my relatives.
Not that my mother was a *******,
it's just rural working class tradition,
i used to think.
Today i know it's just that we've all got issues.

Anyway,
i like to remember Albert's indigo pickup truck,
his alcohol red nose and little smile.
I recall wondering what there was to do
alone in one's garage.
A man's thing, her wife would say.
Having kids all over the appartement
because where they lived was also a daycare,
Maybe she annoyed the **** outa him.


I can only relate,
i despised this daycare
so close to home but not quite home.
Caring isn't only a day thing after all,
we all have to make a living,
but i didn't feel quite alive at the neighbor's daycare.
Always having to share, toys, tv time, germs.
I'd much rather spend some time alone in a garage, like uncle Albert.

Some ******* peace and quiet.
John Andrew Oct 2018
I wanna be the blade of your guillotine
As if there wasn’t something sharper.

Sharper than the image of your TV
Beheaded, who needs a body?
John Andrew Oct 2018
Looking for a state of trance,
i end up in stupors.

I know in advance that i cannot support stupidity,
so i try a bit too often to forget myself;
looking for a traitor only to find one in a mirror.
John Andrew Oct 2018
Joan wasn’t from the arc.
She was sanctified because we missed out from the start.
We shouldn’t have burned the matriarch.


A thousand and more of us stand baffled by the preachers who we think matter.
Haunted as much by ghosts than dictators.

We rotate where we once thought
We’d be falling flat.
Who’s immune to the walls in our heads?
We got to believe that magic can exist in a hat,
Created hierarchy between thoughts and it is a fact that
curiosity itches like the bugs in motel beds.

Grandmas had the blues
Theirs and ours,
Grammar and gamma rays
Had us learning for hours.

Orphans can’t bare being motherless,
Father issues are fathomable
And we decipher blessings
that seem more bulletproof than vests.

Listening to the creature’s sighs,
I’m the creator’s son.
Cheap thrills turn me on,
I’m putting bullets in a gun,
And i’ll be aiming at the sky.

I’m good with some nails and a hammer
I can inhale and get hammered .
I’m a bit like both my fathers;
I follow the trail;
I’m a drunken builder of stories and
Won’t fail to deliver.
John Andrew Oct 2018
You're admirable.
Merely floating.
Thirsty and dry.
Seeking enlightment.


We're falling
short
of
breath.
You shouldn't have ****** with the infinite.



You oughta be careful,
wishing from that well of wisdom.
You could drown, become laughing stock
or choke on a penny that was wishing for freedom.


You shouldn't have ****** with the infinite.

— The End —